


Brighter Days

by jeka1215



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 111,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25445491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeka1215/pseuds/jeka1215
Summary: The war is over and it's time to move on. But how? What happens next? Follow Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their broken lives and get out of the shadow of the pain they all feel. They're moving towards the brightest days of their lives, but they have a long way to go to get there.*This is an old story I wrote years ago and is complete. I will be posting it in its entirety.*
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! This is a fic I wrote years ago and has been posted elsewhere since 2016, though I have done some VERY LIGHT editing to this version. Since I now have an account at AO3, I decided to add it here, also. It will be posted in its entirety, with no waiting between updates. If you're a fan of my Severitus fic, "Just Like His Father," this is very much NOT that story. This one makes no noticeable modifications to existing canon and fits squarely in the nineteen years of gap before the epilogue of Deathly Hallows. Also, I was a younger writer, then, and my chapters are quite a bit shorter than most of the ones in my other fic. Still, I hope you enjoy it! And, even after years of completion, I welcome your feedback and reviews. Happy reading!

Ginny Weasley sat in silence as she stared up at the night sky. She was silent a lot these days, and it’s something she never expected. If her mother had ever told her that she’d be spending most of her nights staring out her bedroom window in silence, she would’ve laughed until she cried.

But that was then. Things were different now.

Life was so much easier when she was younger. Bill used to take her outside and toss her in the air and treat her like a princess. She was always his favorite. Charlie bought her stuffed dragons and castles and they made up stories about princes who rescued the princess from the castle by slaying the dragon. Naturally, Charlie always got to be the dragon. Usually poor Ron got stuck being the prince. He pretended he hated it, but Ginny knew he loved spending time with them.

Percy taught her how to think. He’d tell her riddles or bring her puzzles to work on, and then he’d sulk when she finished the puzzle first. Fred and George loved to play pranks on her because it was a true test of their skills. She was much younger than they were, but she also had an uncanny ability to know when they were up to no good, and tended to stay out of trouble that way. And Ron, well Ron spent his time just trying to remind everyone that Ginny wasn’t the only young Weasley running around. He was never so happy as when he got to go to Hogwarts and leave her behind. It wasn’t that he was mean, he was just happy to have a moment where he got to be in the spotlight. Being the youngest brother, but not the baby of the family, was tough on Ron, Ginny knew that.

Her parents treated her like a star. She was their princess in a world full of frog princes. She was encouraged to express herself and be whatever she wanted to be. They loved to read to her and tell her stories. And as each boy went off to school, they got to spend more and more time with her alone. Not that it was quiet. Ginny made plenty of noise on her own.

Harry Potter was simpler then, too. He was just a famous boy who defeated a greater evil than young Ginny ever understood. He was an icon, a hero. He was the prince who slayed the dragon to save the princess. She idolized him, as did the rest of the wizarding world. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d be face-to-face with him one day. She also didn’t think she’d be sticking her elbow in the butter dish, or sending him singing Valentines, or drooling over him in the Great Hall.

She definitely didn’t think he’d be rescuing her from Tom Riddle’s spirit by killing a basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor in the Chamber of Secrets after she set the evil creature loose in the school. That’s when the silence began.

At first it was the kind of silence that isn’t silence at all, but screams in the middle of the night, waking up in a hot sweat, tangled in blankets and dreams of snakes and darkness. But except for the screaming, Ginny didn’t say much at all, at least not for a while. Her mum bought her a small notebook for Christmas that year, a very ordinary notebook with bright flowers printed on the cover, quite unlike the last book she'd written her thoughts in, and Ginny learned that the nightmares stopped for a little while if she just wrote her thoughts down before bed. She talked less and wrote more.

And she seemed to have a newfound connection with Harry Potter that she just couldn’t explain. It wasn’t a sixth sense, entirely, just a sort of hyper-awareness of his presence. If he walked into a room she was in, she knew, instantly, that he was there. She knew, at a glance, if he was agitated, excited, anxious, or sad. She knew who he fancied, and not just because he was bad at hiding it. She knew things about him that nobody else knew, even Ron and Hermione. She doubted they knew about his nighttime habit of wandering into the common room and staring at the fire. She knew, because sometimes, she was there, too, recovering from a nightmare, as Harry was likely doing. He never noticed her. He was far too deep in thought. But she watched him as he found peace in the crackling fire, and then went back up to bed. They were alike, in that sense. The common room fire was more cathartic than Ginny’s well-used notebook or any Occlumency technique Harry might learn, if Snape ever got around to actually teaching him anything.

And when he faced death every year, Ginny held her breath until she knew he was safe. She knew that she would know if he was dead. That part of her gut that came to life when he saved her would grow cold and dark when he passed from life into death. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief each time Madame Pomphrey pronounced him safe and healthy.

Ginny even knew the day that things changed between her and Harry. She was sitting in her room reading a letter from Dean in the summer after her fourth year. Harry had just arrived from Privet Drive, and the family was ambushing him in the kitchen. She went downstairs to greet him when this feeling of warmth washed over her. Instead of the smile she had intended to greet him with, she found herself engulfing him in a hug and welcoming him back. She didn’t know what made her do it, but the bemused expression on Harry’s face told her that things had definitely changed, though he wasn’t quite sure how, yet.

It took him months to figure it out. But the moment he did, she knew. He later told her he called it the “beast inside his chest”, and when it roared for the first time, Ginny felt a shock wave through her whole being. It wasn’t just the surprise of being discovered snogging Dean that made her jump in surprise, it was the energy that was radiating off of Harry, and the intensity of his gaze. She knew he was looking at her, even before she turned her brown eyes to his piercing green ones.

In fairness to Dean, and because he was a genuinely nice guy, she dated him for a while longer. But Harry was electric, and she just couldn’t be with Dean when Harry kept sending jolts through her every time he walked by.

If you’d told an eight-year-old Ginny Weasley that Harry Potter would snog her in the middle of the crowded common room after an unexpected Quidditch victory, she would have called you a lunatic and kindly asked you to see a Healer.

If you’d told her that she’d rush him from across that same common room, thereby causing the kiss in the first place, she’d probably fall out of her chair in a dead faint.

The instant he came through the portrait hole, she knew something was different. He was alive, charged. The Quidditch victory had turned his bad day into something new, and he was so proud of her that he could hardly contain it. He was bold, too. She could tell that without even seeing him. He had a courage she’d never seen in this boy-wonder before. And then there was that warmth again, just like she felt at the Burrow. And much like what happened at the Burrow, she simply ran at him.

Later, when they talked about it, he said she had this unreadable blazing look in her eyes and he just knew that he was supposed to kiss her. He didn’t think about it, didn’t ponder it, didn’t question it. He just kissed her, because he knew that if he didn’t, the world wouldn’t ever be right again.

There, by the lake in the sunset on a cool, spring day, Ginny Weasley fell in love with Harry Potter.

And then, just like it began, it was over. He told her it was for her own safety, and she didn’t question his decision. He had things to do that she wasn’t a part of, yet. He didn’t love her the way she loved him. Not yet, and maybe not ever. But he still cared deeply for her, more deeply than even he knew. Ginny knew, though, because she could feel it burning inside her. She told him to be safe, and that she’d always support him, and she let him go.

Somehow, she knew that he was the only man she could ever love, and she still let him walk away from her, carrying her heart away as he went.

The next year was torture, for them both. He was miles away in unknown country, but she knew he was safe. She could feel his vitality deep inside, in that warm place that only she knew about. She fought hard for him, as she knew he’d want her to. She used her vigor during the day to sabotage the Carrows and Snivellus. At night, she stood in silence by her window, staring into the stars wondering if Harry could see what she could see. When the stars were veiled by clouds, she ventured down to the common room to gaze at the fire until she was too tired to stand anymore. Only then, when she was assured she was far too tired to dream, would she climb into her bed and sleep.

And then, one day, even Hogwarts wasn’t safe anymore. So she left, and went back to staring out her own window at the Burrow, thinking about Harry, wishing him luck.

The battle was a blur. It was flying beams of green and red, puffs of smoke, pops of apparition, and the unmistakable sound of the collapse of Hogwarts’ wards. She heard the announcement old Tom made about Harry coming into the forest or else he kills everyone. She felt Harry's determination. She knew what he would do. And then, minutes later, she felt his presence move silently across the lawn behind her. She turned to look, but saw nothing. She followed the feeling of him with her eyes as best as she could, but it wasn’t an exact science. She only hoped he could see the love in her eyes, and her silent request that he come back to the castle.

She could have stopped him, but she knew that he would never forgive her. She knew this is what he wanted, what he needed. It was what he was meant to do.

She felt him die.

In the pit of her stomach, in a place that had been warmed by the life-force of Harry Potter for the past 5 years, she felt nothing but emptiness and bitter cold.

He was gone. She knew. She couldn’t feel the cold anymore, but she couldn’t feel anything else either. She was numb to the world, numb to her own emptiness. And yet, until Hagrid carried him out of the forest, limp and clearly dead, she refused to believe it. But there he was. Dead. Gone. Forever. The keeper of her heart had died and taken it with him.

She’d never screamed so loudly in her entire life.

And now she burned with something different. Rage. Rage like she’d never known. It started in that numb, cold place and grew until she was on fire with it. In some corner of her brain she registered that Harry had disappeared, and Neville had killed the snake with the ever-present Sword of Gryffindor. All she knew was that she needed to fight someone, someone she could destroy, but not too easily.

Bellatrix provided the perfect target. She engaged her in the most violent duel she’d ever had in her life. And she relished in it. Her Harry was gone, she had nothing to lose. Her family would miss her, she knew that, but what was a life without Harry Potter? She couldn’t live with that cold emptiness for the rest of her life. Burning rage was better. Death was better. Death stared down at her with the face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

And then Death died, killed by Ginny’s own mother in a last effort to protect her daughter, her princess.

Ginny would have to learn to live without him. She would…but there he was, standing in the middle of the Great Hall, wand-to-wand with Voldemort himself. He was back. He wasn’t dead. Somehow, he’d defeated death again. The burning rage inside her had hidden the slow warmth that was Harry’s life. Now that her rage was spent, she could feel it, again.

Hope. He was confident. He knew something Voldemort didn’t. He destroyed the most evil wizard in all wizarding history with a disarming spell, the simplest of all spells learned at Hogwarts.

Voldemort was dead.

Harry was alive.

Weeks later, and Ginny still hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with him. He’d been through a lot. He was healing. She knew he would come to her when he was ready. She’d pass him in the Burrow and feel that wave of warmth again. If she was lucky, or her timing was right, she’d even catch a flash of that lightning when he looked at her. She knew he’d be okay.

He just needed time to think, to process, to heal.

Ginny did, too. That’s why she spent her nights at the Burrow staring out her window, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear George’s crying down the hall, or Harry’s pacing in the room above. She pretended Hermione was sleeping, even though she could hear her rolling over and over in bed. She pretended not to notice when Hermione slipped out in the middle of the night, sometime after Harry stopped pacing, and padded almost silently into Harry and Ron’s room. She pretended not to notice when she heard the soft click of the latch on her door as Hermione was sneaking back in every morning, usually minutes before her mum’s footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

It wasn’t just Ginny who was silent these days. It was everyone. People moved about the house in silence, They ate meals silently. The silence was so heavy that they could barely breathe. But Ginny knew that things would get better. Things had to get better. One day, the world would be normal, again. There would be laughter and food and family. They would smile at each other, and pick on each other, and fight with each other. But for today, there was only a roaring silence.

And with that final thought, Ginny turned from her window and climbed into bed, letting the rhythm of Harry’s pacing lull her to sleep, hoping, as she’d been hoping for the past 23 days, that tomorrow would be a little bit brighter than today.


	2. Chapter 2

It was somewhere around Day 37 that things began to seem a bit more like normal, again. Hermione had confided to Ron earlier in the week that she was considering leaving her parents in Australia rather than complicate their lives further by tracking them down and bringing them back. She had no idea how she would explain any of this to her parents, anyway. Not to mention the fact that they literally had nothing to come back to. Their dental practice went under without any dentists, and they sold their house when they moved away. Hermione felt that their lives would be better if they just continued to be the people she had made them believe they were.

Ron told her that was a load of bullocks and immediately started planning the trip to retrieve them. Hermione was suitably pleased to see him working so hard for her. So was everyone else. Having something to do seemed to bring first Ron, then everyone else out of their stupor, as it took every last person to organize the Grangers' homecoming. Arthur Weasley returned to his office, threw all his papers on the floor, and converted his desk to a command center. He owled every Australian authority he could contact, inquiring after anyone by the name of Wendell or Monica Wilkins. When his inquiries were met again and again by resistance from the muggle government, Arthur was forced to call in a favor.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named Interim Minister of Magic, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the position became permanently his. Luckily for Arthur, he and Kingsley had become quite close during their time with the Order. They had often been partnered together on missions, and Arthur found the man very agreeable. He hoped his presence here today wouldn’t complicate their friendship too much.

“Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, sorry. I was a bit distracted.”

“Perfectly all right, Mr. Weasley, sir,” said the chipper Desk Witch, outside Kingsley’s…er…Minister Shacklebolt’s office. “The Minister will see you now.”

“Right. Good. Thank you.” He smiled nervously at the Desk Witch, straightened his shoulders, and turned the knob on the Minister’s office door.

At the creak of the hinge, Kingsley lifted his head from the paperwork on his desk and smiled.

“Arthur! Good to see you! I admit, your visit is unexpected, but I’m very glad you’ve come. Please, sit. You’ve no idea how wonderful it is to see a face with no deception in it. It seems that everyone who stops by my office these days has some sort of hidden agenda or secret affiliation with Voldemort they’re trying to cover up. You, you, I know I can trust. But, I would venture to say you haven’t come up just to see an old friend, have you? You’d always be welcome, you know. Anyway, what can I help you with, Arthur?”

“Minister, I–“ Kingsley held up a hand and shook his head at Arthur.

“Friend, please. Just Kingsley. We both know it could have been either of us sitting behind this desk, and I refuse to allow my trusted friend to play the subservient fool. ‘Kingsley’ will do just fine, especially within the confines of this office.”

Arthur gave him a warm smile. “Just Kingsley, then. And for the record, I think the best man got the job. I would’ve been a mess in your position. I just don’t have the skill you have with Muggles. In fact, it’s a couple of Muggles who bring me here, today. As you may or may not know, Hermione Granger modified her parents’ memory and gave them a very strong desire to move to Australia before she and Ron left to help Harry on his mission. Ron has mobilized the family to help retrieve them. They’ve been living as Muggles named Wendell and Monica Wilkins, so my efforts to go through the usual magical channels have met with very little success. I dug up some of my old contacts in the Australian Muggle Relations office, but they’ve proven unhelpful. The Muggle government is telling me that I can’t retrieve any information about the Wilkins without proof of familial relationship or a government document. Since Hermione can no longer prove her relationship to her parents because of their modified memories and records, I have no way of discovering where they are on the Australian continent. I was hoping you could step in with some ministerial documents and see how far you can get. I know you’re busy, and I’m not asking you to do it all today. We just can’t really do a whole lot until we know where they are.”

The Minister sat in thought for a few minutes, while Arthur sat silently in his chair realizing he’d just asked the Minister of Magic for a huge favor, and hoping it didn’t backfire on him.

When minutes were starting to feel like hours and Arthur was beginning to regret asking so much of his powerful friend, Kingsley spoke.

“I think I can help you. It isn’t going to be easy, mind you. That’s just what I was thinking about. The Australian Ministry of Magic has some pull with the Muggle government, but our Ministry of Magic and theirs have experienced a strained relationship since Fudge’s reign. Scrimgeour was too busy letting the ministry hire Death Eaters and begging Harry to be the poster-boy to worry much about diplomacy, especially with such a distant country as Australia. They were unlikely to help us out in the war effort, anyway, being so far off and out of the fighting. Rufus placed them at the absolute bottom of his list of priorities. Repairing the lines of communication have been near the top of my list for weeks, now, but it’s been slow going. They just don’t trust us, anymore, Arthur. I have managed, however, to develop a contact within the Ministry who would be helpful, I think. I’ll contact him tomorrow and see what I can dig up for you. I don’t know how fast this will go. The paperwork itself could take weeks, but I promise I’ll do the best I can.”

“Thank you so much, Minis…er…Kingsley. You have no idea what this is going to mean to Hermione. She was ready to give up on them, but we told her we’d never leave them behind. Er, well, Ron told her, actually. But we all said he was right. But that’s not important. We owe you, Kingsley. If you ever need anything that the Minister of Magic can’t get on his own, just let me know and I’ll be happy to help, if I can.”

Kingsley laughed a deep laugh and waved as Arthur exited his office with a smile.

*********************************************************

Arthur walked into his kitchen to find it buzzing with life. This was only unusual because it had been uncharacteristically quiet in his kitchen for the past year or so. This kitchen, however, almost resembled the flurry of activity that preceded Bill and Fleur’s wedding. The table was spread with papers, cutouts, sketches, different colored squares, while smells of dinner were wafting pleasantly from the oven.

“Good evening, Dear. Did you discover anything productive at work today?” Molly greeted him with a rare smile.

“Not today, Molly, sorry. But I’ll tell you what I did do over supper. It smells wonderful, by the way. Is it nearly ready?”

“Nearly. We’ll have to do something with all this mess on the table. Harry, Hermione and I were looking over some things earlier and I’m afraid we never got around to cleaning anything up.” She made a complicated twirl of her wand and suddenly the papers, color squares and cutouts were organizing themselves into neat piles and sailing into an empty box in the corner. “There. That’ll do for now. If you call Ginny down to set the table, I suppose we’ll be ready to eat.”

“Already here, Mum.” Ginny stepped down the last few stairs and entered the kitchen.

“Perfect timing, Ginny dear. Set the table while I finish up the last of dinner, would you please? Then gather the boys and Hermione so we can eat.”

Ginny set about her tasks with the ease of long practice. The table was set in a heartbeat and she went about the more difficult task of finding her family. Some of them were easy. George was either sulking in his room, or sulking in the garden. It was a rather dreary day out, so he’d probably be in his room. Ron was wherever Hermione was, and lately that was wherever they thought no one would find them. Since they weren’t at all creative, they were likely in Ron’s room or the shed. Harry was the only real wildcard. The weather didn’t seem to phase him, and he was just as likely to be outside on a dreary day like this as he was to be inside. In fact, given the fact that Ron and Hermione were likely in Ron’s room, Harry had no choice but to go outside. Well, or watch Hermione and Ron snog each other to death, but she didn’t think he’d really consider that an “option.” Still, knowing Harry was outside was only partially helpful, as the Burrow’s grounds were quite expansive. She stood on the back porch and closed her eyes, finding the warm place that she associated with Harry.

She’d discovered, recently, that if she thought hard enough, she could get a better read on Harry. She could decipher his general location, ascertain his basic mood, even tell when he was thinking about her. These weren’t new things. What was different was that now she could do it even when they weren’t in the same room. She used that ability now as a compass, to point her in the right direction. She felt a pull to her right, and set off across the grounds towards the orchard.

She should have thought of the orchard. Harry always liked to go where he would be less likely to be seen, and the orchard provided plenty of tree-cover for that. Ginny could tell, even from this distance, that Harry was both troubled and calmed today. She didn’t have much time to ponder what caused his calmness as she approached his location.

She rounded the corner of an uneven row of trees and saw him. He was sitting with his back against a crooked tree, thumbing through some pages with colorful sketches on them. They looked like design patterns, and Ginny had no idea what he was doing with them. He looked engrossed in whatever he was doing, and didn’t even hear her approach.

“Harry?”

Before she could blink his wand was pointed in her face and the papers were scattered all over the ground. She let out a squeak of surprise and jumped backwards. Harry’s eyes caught up with his reflexes and he lowered his wand embarrassedly.

“Sorry, Gin. It’s a reflex thing, you know?” He smoothed his hair, a telltale sign of nervousness.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’d be jumpy, too, I suppose. I am jumpy, actually. Nearly hexed Angelina Johnson today when she walked into the twins, er, I mean, George’s shop. And she didn’t even sneak up on me, just walked right in the front door while I had my back turned to take inventory.”

“Better to be too prepared than not at all, I guess,” Harry said, picking up the last of his papers and standing. “I figure you’re here to fetch me for dinner, then?”

“Right, as usual. Mum’s in a good mood today. The kitchen smells better than it’s smelled since…well, you know, in a long time.” It was a casual way of saying since the battle, since Fred died, since the world got turned upside down. But they didn’t have to say it. They both knew what she meant. “Are you ready to go inside? I bet Dad’s finished gathering the rest of the family by now. We’ll be the last back.”

“Well I guess we’d better go, then,” Harry said. He led the way out of the orchard and Ginny followed a step behind.

When Ginny thought about it, this was the first time she’d really been alone with Harry since that day in May when he killed Voldemort and saved the world. She’d seen him, yes, but they hadn’t really talked one-on-one since…well she wasn’t sure she could remember exactly when. She hadn’t envisioned their first conversation post-battle to be so…normal and casual. They had lots of things to talk about, but it still seemed too raw and too heavy for such a dark time. She was waiting for things to get better, if they ever would.

They arrived back at the Burrow just as George was stumbling down the stairs to the table. They hadn’t asked George for much help with Hermione’s parents simply because they couldn’t think of anything for him to do. Instead, Ginny had taken it upon herself to inventory, stock, and clean the shop to get it ready for George to reopen it. She’d seen how this project of Hermione’s had given them something to work towards, and she needed to give George something like that, too. Having a goal was helping them heal. This dinner was proof of that.

Day 41 was the first Weasley dinner they’d had since Bill and Fleur’s wedding. They’d eaten, of course, but it was usually more of a necessity than a pleasure. Molly would make something and then as they got hungry they’d come down, eat, and go back upstairs to mope. Molly couldn’t do anything about it because she was doing the exact same thing. Only now that they were feeling productive again, feeling human again, did Molly reinstate family dinners.

They sat around the table with an odd mixture of nervousness and comfort. They were still the same family, almost, but there was an obvious empty seat between George and Arthur, and nobody quite knew what to talk about. Molly set the last of the dinner down on the table and took her seat.

“Well, go ahead. Eat!”

Ron wasted no time digging his fork into the food, and with a small chuckle at Ron’s ever-present appetite, the rest of them began to eat, too. And it was almost normal. After a little bit of small talk, Arthur decided to share the story of his meeting with Kingsley. His news was met with an explosion of noise from the whole table.

“Oh Dad that’s great! I just know–“

“If anyone can get it done, Kingsley can. He’s never stopped short–“

“Mr. Weasley, thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to–“

“Arthur, dear, that’s wonderful! How was the Minister? Was he happy to see–“

“Slow down! Slow down! Kingsley’s doing wonderful, and he’d be appalled to hear you all calling him ‘Minister’. Practically threw me out of his office when I tried it. I’m sure he’ll do his best to help in any way he can, but we must remember he is a busy man, now. I don’t expect him to have any instantaneous success, but he seemed to think he could help us. In the meantime, we need to begin setting things up so they have a place to stay when they come back. We’d be happy to have them here, but I just don’t think they’d be comfortable around all this magic for any length of time. I don’t know much about Muggle real estate, but I’m sure we could find someone to help us figure it out. Do you have any idea where they’ll want to live, Hermione?”

“Actually, Mr. Weasley, I think I may be able to help,” Harry said quietly from his seat next to Ron. He smoothed his hair. Nervous, again. “See, I’ve been thinking. I have a house. It isn’t much to look at right now, and it’s certainly much scarier than the Burrow, but it’s empty, which we can’t say for the Burrow, and it’s in London, which is a better place to open a new dental practice then Ottery St. Catchpole, and it’s not a place I’m really ever looking forward to occupying again. I don’t know what kind of curses were placed on it when the Death Eaters got in, but I’m sure whatever damage they caused we could reverse. We’d need Bill to look it over and see if it’s safe before we go in, of course, but I think we could fix it up and let the Grangers live there. I already spoke to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley about it, and they helped me draw up some rough sketches of how the rooms could look with a little redecoration. I know it probably isn’t exactly what The Grangers are looking for, but I’d be happy to let them live there as long as they want, or until they’ve made enough money to buy a new house. I’m just looking for a way to help, Mr. Weasley. After Bill looks the place over, I’ll take whoever wants to go and we’ll get started on the remodel.”

“Harry! That sounds like a wonderful idea. I hadn’t even thought of that. I’ll contact Bill tomorrow and see when he’s available to look at the house.”

“That’s brilliant, Harry. I understand those drawings you had in the orchard, now. Is it okay if I see them?”

“Oh! Yeah, I forgot they were still in my pocket, actually. Hang on,” he pulled the slightly crumpled papers out of his pocket and handed them to Ginny. “There you go. There were more on the table, earlier. These are just a few I was considering.”

She looked down at the drawings in her hand. Harry was right when he said “rough sketches”. Neither Harry, Hermione, or her mum could draw very well. But even with their rudimentary artistry, Ginny could see the potential beauty of the home. They’d chosen light shades of blue, green and yellow for the various rooms in the house, with sheer white curtains and rich mahogany furniture. It was the perfect balance of light and warmth. She pictured these rooms in her head, transformed and brightened by their upcoming renovations. It was a place any person would be happy to call home.

“I want to help,” she said. “This is…it’s just amazing. I want to be a part of it.”

Harry looked at her and smiled. She felt a rush of warmth and sizzle of electricity, stronger than she’d felt it since the wedding.

“I’d love to have your help, Ginny. I know you’d be brilliant at it. I’ve no idea how to do any of this stuff, so once we get the place cleared you and Hermione can take the lead. Maybe we’ll even do some of it the Muggle way, just for fun.”

“Sounds like a plan, Harry.” Their eyes met and they shared a smile. There was the warmth again, and that electric spark. His eyes danced with excitement about his new project, and, Ginny hoped, the prospect of getting to work closely with her.

Their moment snapped when Ron reached across Harry to get another dinner roll, severing the link between Harry and Ginny. She shook her head and looked back at her plate.

They passed the rest of their dinner talking excitedly about the plans for Grimmauld Place. Nobody noticed when George slipped out to return to his room. He alone felt, well, alone and useless. Slowly, the rest of the Weasley’s drifted off to bed, Ron and Hermione following very close behind each other, until only Harry and Ginny were left poring over the pictures and paint squares, trying to come up with the best possible design.

When Ginny yawned for the third time in five minutes, she finally decided it was probably time to go to bed.

“I’m sorry, Harry. But I’ve got to go to bed. I can’t even tell the difference between ice blue and glacier blue, anymore. We’re not going to get anything else done tonight. We’ll look at it again in the morning, okay? Goodnight, Harry.” Ginny stood to go, pushing the papers in front of her back into a neat pile and stacking them next to Harry. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? You want to be able to get started as soon as Bill tells you it’s alright. That’ll be difficult if you’re still asleep, don’t you think?”

“Alright, Ginny. Thanks. I’ll head up in a minute. Just want to finish sorting through these colors. They got mixed up earlier when Ron was looking through them, so I want to put them back in order. I’ll see you tomorrow, Gin.”

“See you tomorrow, Harry,” she said as she walked around the table to the stairs. Harry felt her place a small kiss on the top of his head and whisper a soft “Goodnight” as she passed by, and then, she was gone. He sat still for a moment, fighting the desire to follow her to her room and show her what a real goodnight kiss was supposed to be like. But that would be inappropriate. It was too soon. He’d wait until things started to get better. He didn’t even know where they stood, these days. It didn’t change how he felt, but he knew they weren’t ready to start their relationship again. They had more important things to worry about, right now.

When he felt he was under control, he finished sorting the last of the paint squares, and stacked them neatly on the table. He climbed the stairs and fell straight into bed. For the first time in over a month, Harry fell asleep in an instant, dreaming only of Ginny Weasley.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was awoken by the light of the sun shining in Ron’s window. He couldn’t remember the last time the sun had woken up before him. He was usually sitting in the garden, watching it slowly turn the sky pink in the earliest hours of the morning. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep longer, but the nightmares made it rather difficult. This was the first morning in recent memory that he’d slept a whole night without a single nightmare.

He did remember having some pleasant dreams about a certain female Weasley, however. In fact, the thought of those dreams could make his whole face flush bright red. He still didn’t think it was the right time to consider restarting their relationship, but he was looking forward to the time when it was.

Just because he wasn’t ready to date Ginny again, didn’t mean he couldn’t still talk to her. He got out of bed and went downstairs to see if he could find her. The smell of fried eggs drew him to the kitchen, instead. He had hoped to find Ginny standing over the stove, but it was Hermione who was hovering over a simmering pan. She heard Harry coming down the stairs and turned to greet him.

“Morning, Harry. I was wondering if you were ever going to get up. Would you like some eggs? I’ve got toast in the oven, too, if you’d like.”

“Both sound fabulous, Hermione, thank you.” Harry opened the cabinet and pulled down a plate. Hermione slid the eggs onto Harry’s waiting plate and cracked two more into her skillet. Harry deftly plucked two slices of toast from the oven, and took a seat at the table.

“The eggs are great, as usual, Hermione. Burnt the toast a bit, though, don’t you think?” Harry said as he examined his slightly-blackened bread.

Hermione squealed and pulled the pan from the oven.

“Sorry, Harry. I’m not used to cooking it in the oven, you know? At home we use a toaster, and when we were out looking for the Horcruxes, I used the fire. When we had bread, that is.”

“Don’t worry about it. This is still better than mushrooms.” Hermione smiled sheepishly. “Hey, by the way, have you seen Ginny this morning? I was hoping to talk to her, but I’m not sure where she is.”

Hermione cast a quick glance around as if she were looking for someone. Seeing no one but the two of them, she said, “She’s at George’s shop with Angelina Johnson. Before last night, she didn’t really have anything to do to bring Mum and Dad home, so she took it upon herself to get the shop ready for business, again. She’s hoping that when George sees it restored, he’ll get a little life back. I’m not sure how well it’ll work, but it’s good to hope, anyway. Apparently Angelina saw her there, one day, and volunteered her help. She’s just finishing up the last of the inventory today, then she’ll be back.”

“I had no idea. That’s a brilliant plan. Why is she doing this alone, though? She could’ve asked me for help. I didn’t have much to do until yesterday, either.”

“Well, you’ve been rather…distracted lately. We all have. I think she wanted to do this by herself. If Angelina hadn’t found her out, she would likely still be going alone. She really wants to keep it a secret, too, Harry. Only Mrs. Weasley and I know she’s been going. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t seen her flooing out one day and heard her destination. Since then, I’ve been keeping Ron away during her scheduled arrival and departure times. Everyone else just thinks she’s been going off alone on the grounds somewhere like the rest of us have.”

Harry pondered this development for a moment. He knew Ginny was great at helping others, but he couldn’t fathom how she thought she could put the Twins’ store back together on her own. From what he’d heard, it was completely ransacked shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts, and he knew it would take ages to put back together.

“I’m going to go see if she needs any help. You’ll know where to find me, if anyone asks. Floo the shop if Mr. Weasley calls with news about Bill and the house. I’d like to go over with him and see it as soon as possible.”

Hermione didn’t have time to protest before he was throwing Floo Powder in the fire and whisking off to Diagon Alley. She didn’t know what she would have said even if she did have time to protest. There was little she could do to stop him doing what he wanted, and frankly she didn’t have much desire to, anyway. This was the first time Harry had been sociable in months, and whatever had caused it, she wasn’t going to be the one to stop it. She only hoped he’d be safe and cautious.

For his part, Harry was glad that Fred and George had installed a fireplace and connected it to the floo network. As he was whizzing past a network of fireplaces, he suddenly remembered that this was the first time since he defeated Voldemort that he’d been out of the Burrow. He didn’t relish being seen by a photographer in his state. He hadn’t shaved since the battle, and he hadn’t showered yet, today. Besides all that, it would completely ruin the secrecy that Ginny had worked so hard to maintain.

Suddenly, he came to a screeching halt, and tumbled out of the grate onto a soft carpet. He silently thanked Ginny for having the forethought to put down such a soft landing spot, though upon closer examination of the lurid colors and patterns, he considered that it may have already been there when she got there. Whether it was Ginny or the twins didn’t matter, though. He was thankful either way. He was rubbish at floo travel, and at least today he knew he wouldn’t go back home with bruised knees.

The fireplace was in the stock room, and as he looked around he was amazed at what he saw. All the products had been placed in labeled boxes and stacked in neat rows. Each box had a number on it, to indicate the number of items in the box, and also a small number in the corner, to tell how many boxes of a certain product they had. Clearly, Ginny had been busy. It was a remarkable amount of progress for the couple weeks she’d been at it.

The closer to the store he got, however, the more he saw how much work was left. Ginny must’ve started from the floo and worked forward, possibly because that’s all she could get to at the time. Gadgets and broken boxes covered a little more than half the remaining stock room, and a neat stack of boxes was waiting to be filled.

There was one whole corner that Ginny hadn’t touched. He surmised this was where the twins kept their potions, as everything in it was covered in a nasty, rainbow colored ooze, and the area was covered in a sickly haze. He wisely kept his distance as he climbed the stairs into the main store.

As he opened the door at the top of the stairs, he saw Ginny standing with her back to him, clutching a clipboard, and counting items on the shelf while chewing on the end of her quill. It was a beautiful picture to Harry. Even in jeans and a t-shirt he could see her curves. Her singular focus gave her face a relaxed, but determined look. She must have been doing some hard work, too, because her face was slightly flushed and her hair had broken loose from her ponytail and now hung slightly in front of her face.

Not wanting to disrupt these peaceful scene, but knowing it was a necessity if he was to offer any help, he started to call out to her. Before he could utter a word, though, she turned and looked at him with a sly smile.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there and stare or say hello?”

“Er…hi. How’d you know I was here?”

“You have a very distinctive breathing pattern, Harry Potter. Not to mention you walk as if you’re trying to stomp holes in the floor.” Not that Ginny ever needed any of those things to tell when Harry was near. She knew the second he came out of the floo. She couldn’t imagine telling him that, though. At least not now.

“Oh. I see. Well I’ll try to be sneakier next time, then.”

“You can try,” she offered with that knowing smile, again. That sparkle in her eye was driving Harry crazy. But this wasn’t what he came for. He banished that thought to the back of his head, and asked her how he could help.

Ginny’s self-assigned task of the day was to finish inventory of the items on the shelves in the store. She had one whole section, however, that was completely blocked by an overturned display that must have weighed nearly 35 kilos. Ginny had tried moving it, earlier, but had only succeeded in completely destroying her ponytail and working up a nice sweat. Angelina wasn’t coming in today, and she knew she couldn’t do it on her own. She’d decided to just finish this last shelf, and go home, but Harry’s arrival had changed those plans.

With the two of them, they managed to get the display moved out of the way. Harry did the bulk of the work, muscles flexing visibly through his t-shirt. He wasn’t bulky or overly strong, by any means, but he’d grown into some muscles during their time apart, and she found that she rather liked his newfound strength.

They put the displaced items back in their places on the shelves and set about counting them, chatting little but enjoying the comfortable silence. They were nearly finished when Ginny’s quill began to vibrate and ding loudly.

“Oh! There must be a floo call. Hermione charmed my quill for me so I’d know when someone wanted to talk to me even when I’m away from the fire. It has a different ding based on who’s calling. This call is from Hermione.”

“Cleverest witch of her age. I don’t doubt it for a second. I think this call is for me, though, actually. I told her to floo me when she heard from your dad about the house.”

They stepped off the last few stairs and began weaving through the rows of boxes, to the fire. Hermione’s head was looking around impatiently as they rounded the last corner.

“Finally! I’ve been here for ages Ginny! What took you guys so long to come down?” Her smile was a little too innocent to be, well, innocent, but the both ignored the insinuation.

“We were busy, Hermione. And it’s a rather large shop, you know.”

“Right. Well it doesn’t matter, anyway. I just called to tell you, Harry, that Bill and Mr. Weasley are on their way over to Grimmauld Place, now. They’d like you to apparate over and join them as soon as you can. Bill seems to think it won’t take long to check the place out. Most of the curses will have expired when the wizard who cast them died. Ron and I are heading over as soon as I finish talking to you. Mrs. Weasley’s going to stay here with George, I think. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah! That’s great. I’ll be over in just a second. See you there.”

“See you, Harry. Bye Ginny.”

“Bye, Hermione.”

Harry turned to Ginny and handed over his clipboard before drawing in a deep breath. He was looking forward to transforming his house into something the Grangers would love, but this initial visit was going to be particularly tough. He hadn’t let anyone know how much it affected him, but he was pretty shaken up inside.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Ginny said, placing her hand on Harry’s shoulder. Her gaze told him that she understood exactly what was going on in his head, though he couldn’t imagine how.

“You still have inventory to do. I don’t want to pull you away from your project just so you can start on mine. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Harry, don’t be silly. This isn’t going to be easy on you. This house holds too many memories. Inventory can wait. I’m not going to get the shop open today or the next day, or for several days after. You haven’t even seen how much work is left to do on the outside of the store, and I haven’t started the office area or that nasty potions spill yet. Delaying a few hours isn’t going to make much difference.”

Harry looked into her determined gaze and realized there was nothing he could do to change her mind.

“Alright. Come along, then. Do you know how to apparate?” She shook her head, no. “That’s alright. You can come side-along with me. I’m not as good at it as Hermione, but I think we’ll make it in one piece. Maybe this summer I’ll teach you how. That rubbish way they teach you in school is really only good if you’ve got loads of time to think before you hop away somewhere. That’s hardly practical when you’re running from Death Eaters. Are you ready?” She placed her clipboard on top of a pile of boxes and took a tentative hold of Harry’s arm, feeling a sting of electricity as her skin met his.

He glanced down at her before grabbing her tightly around the waist and spinning away with the sharp pop of apparation. Her head whirled with the combined feeling of being compressed through a tube while being wrapped tightly in Harry’s strong arms. Her ears registered another sharp pop and she felt the compression ease. She opened her eyes to see the battered front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, with her father, Bill, Ron, and Hermione standing anxiously on the sidewalk. With a blush, she began to extricate herself from Harry’s strong grip, and looked at Hermione, who had her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline.

Harry muttered something about not wanting her to get separated, and dropped his arms to his sides, smoothing his hair in his telltale nervous manner.

The awkward scene was interrupted by Bill’s eager voice, “Well. Shall we?”

With Bill leading the way, the group approached the front of Grimmauld Place. Raising his wand, Bill began to chant a series of spells. As he chanted, spheres of color appeared around the house and grounds until it was surrounded by a shining white light. Suddenly there was a loud squelching sound, and the bright white sphere disappeared.

“It’s done. All clear. I’ve pulled all the curses out, as far as I can tell. They weren’t very sophisticated, actually. A level one or two curse breaker could have done this on a training mission. Everything should be clear. You can go on in, now, though I do still advise caution. They were Death Eaters, remember? They can be pretty tricky.”

Since it was his house, Harry knew that he’d need to go in first, he just didn’t know if he’d be able to. The last time he was here, he was running for his life. What would it be like, inside? How would he react to being in this nightmarish place, again? He felt a small, smooth hand slip into his and give it a squeeze. Ginny’s show of support gave him the strength he needed to push open the front gate, walk carefully across the lawn, and finally enter his “home”, again. With a loud creak, the door swung slowly open.


	4. Chapter 4

They waited with bated breath to see if anything sinister was going to happen. When, after several moments, nothing did, they all breathed a sigh of relief and continued inside.

Harry lit his wand as he entered, and the scene he saw made him glad Ginny still had her hand in his. Bellatrix and her band of merry Death Eaters had utterly destroyed the place. Ransacked it. They’d blasted holes in the stairs and walls, slashed through the portraits, and broken all the furniture. It’s not that Harry was particularly attached to any of these things, but they were a part of Sirius’s past, and they were iconic, in a way. He knew they were likely going to throw everything out, anyway, but he wanted to do it on his own terms, not because some Death Eaters decided to destroy it simply for the fact that it belonged to the Despicable Harry Potter.

The only positive thing about the Death Eaters’ attack was that they’d somehow managed to rip down the painting of Sirius’s Mum. Her hateful screeching was something they’d never miss.

Pinpricks of light moved around the house in pairs, as they searched out the rooms together. They didn’t trust the floors upstairs, as they appeared to have several large holes blasted through them. They couldn’t really get up there, anyway, as the holes in the stairs were impassable. Most of the lamps had been broken, but they lit whatever lights they could find on their way around. Hermione and Ron cleaned a thick layer of grime off the front windows, and they let in considerably more light. After several minutes of exploring the ground floor, they met back in the entrance hall.

All eyes were on Harry, again, as they waited for him to tell them what to do. Honestly, Harry didn’t quite know what to do, himself. The destruction was even worse than he’d imagined, and he didn’t have much experience with handy-magic. He could fix some of the small things by hand, thanks to the Dursleys, but much of this was far beyond his abilities. He just didn’t know how they were going to make this work for Hermione.

“Hermione, I’m sorry. I don’t think we can fix it. The house is…well it’s complete rubbish. I mean, you can see it. I don’t know what to do. This is way beyond me. I can’t fix it.” He stood there, looking around his disaster of a house until Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

“Mate, sometimes you can be as thick as me. D’you think we expected you to do all the fixing? None of us are daft enough to think you actually know anything about handy-magic. Lucky for you, you’ve got the two experts right here. Who d’you think built the Burrow? Dad did most of it, but when Bill got older he helped Dad expand it so there’d be room for all of us. Yeah, there’s a lot to do, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on it.”

“As much as it kills me to say this, Harry, my idiot brother is actually right,” Ginny said from beside him. “Did you really think you were going to have to do this alone?”

“Well it is my house. I just thought that, you know, since Mr. Weasley and Bill have work, and everyone else is busy with other things, there wouldn’t be anyone left to help me.”

“Harry, let me tell you something,” Bill began, “this family has been through a lot lately. That’s not news to you. What you may not be aware of, however, is exactly how we all feel about you and Hermione. Both of you are our family. You’re like an extra brother and sister that we just didn’t meet until later. Hermione’s family is missing, and since Hermione is our family, her family is a part of that, too. Do you follow?” Harry gave a shaky nod, “Good. Now, when something happens in our family, we don’t rest until we’ve sorted it out. I think you know this. Dad and I have taken time off work for this project. Kingsley gave him special permission to be absent for as long as it takes. Gringotts was less accommodating, but it turns out they need me as much as I need them, and they grudgingly let me have my time off. We’re here to help. As far as I’m concerned, this house is the only thing we really have going for us, right now. We’re at a stalemate with the retrieval plans until we hear from Kingsley, so right now we just need to start working on this home. This place is our best bet. Yes, it needs work, but we need something to work on, too. This project…it’s helping us deal with our losses. We all miss him, F-Fred. But having something to work towards makes us feel more alive. You need this as much as the rest of us. We’re not giving this up, no matter how much work it is.”

Bill’s speech had left him with tear tracks on his face. As Harry looked around at the rest of the Weasleys, he saw they all had watery eyes and shaky smiles. Harry was surprised to find his eyes tearing up, as well. Bill was right; he did need this. He needed it for the same reasons the rest of them did. Doing something productive and helpful made him feel like a person, again. He didn’t have to think about all those horrible things that happened last year or the pain of losing nearly everyone he loved. When he was focused on something, rather than left alone with his thoughts, things seemed a little less bleak. He still didn’t know how to even begin repairing the house, but he knew it needed to be done. For Sirius. This was his house, and he wouldn’t want Harry to just leave it behind. Nothing would have made him happier than to know that there was a happy family living in it and enjoying it. Remus, too, would just be proud to see him finish this project. He started it, now he had to finish it. He could only imagine what Moony would say if he started it and then just left it to rot. He would do it. He had to. And somehow, he knew that if he did, he’d feel so much better.

Ginny gave his hand another squeeze, and Harry came back to reality. The Weasleys were waiting on an answer.

“Let’s get some of these things cleared out. It’s nearly dinnertime and I want to say we accomplished something when we go back home.”

The Weasleys and Hermione all smiled at him. Arthur Weasley smiled and said, “Sure thing, Harry. Let’s get started.”

They spent the next three hours clearing debris from the house, and finding creative ways to let in more light. When it finally got too dark for them to be able to work, they called it quits and went back to the Burrow to eat a wonderful supper and go to bed.

************************************ **************

They woke bright and early the next morning, ready to get started on the house. They hadn’t connected the floo, yet, so they each had to apparate over on their own. Despite getting to bed earlier than everyone else, he was the last to wake up, again, and so was the last to leave. He was just about to apparate out when he heard his name.

“Harry! Harry! Wait! I’m coming with you!”

“Gin? I thought you’d be going to the shop today. I told you yesterday, your projects are just as important as mine.”

“And I agree with you, but there’s no reason I can’t divide my time. Besides, Angelina’s at the shop today, and she doesn’t need me to tell her what to do. I, however, do need you to take me to the house, because there’s no floo there, yet. Once you get it connected, I can just floo over from the shop or from here, and go back and forth as I choose.”

“Well, that’s a fair point, I suppose. Though, I should really get started teaching you how to apparate as soon as possible. I know you aren’t 17 yet, but the Ministry is hardly concerned with underage magic right now, anyway.”

“No, I don’t expect it matters now. They’d have a pretty hard time tracking me down, anyway. Dad says they’re really short on Aurors. They didn’t have a great leader after Kingsley went into hiding, so most of them got picked off one by one during the war. They’re trying to rebuild the department, but Dad says it’s slow. Nobody really wants to be an auror right now.”

“What about you? Do you want to be an auror? I’m sure Kingsley would hire you on the spot if you wanted to. You’re brilliant at defensive magic, and your jinxes and hexes are better than any I’ve ever seen. Even if he made you take an entrance test or something, I’m sure you could pass. You’d make a scary auror, Gin. I wouldn’t want to cross you.”

“I thought about it, especially after Dad told me they needed so many, you know? But I just don’t think it’s for me. Not after all the battles I’ve already faced. Besides, I’d rather do something fun, like flying. I’m thinking of trying out for Quidditch when the leagues start back up, again.”

“That’s brilliant! You’d be fantastic. You’re right, that’s a great job for you. I can see it now, ‘Ginny Weasley, star Chaser’. It suits you. What about school, though. Are you going back?”

“I don’t think I could go back to Hogwarts. It’s not the same place, anymore. There was too much pain, there, even from the beginning. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go through the routine, knowing how much sorrow still lingered there. I couldn’t walk past the place where F-Fr-Fred died on my way to class everyday. I couldn’t go into the Great Hall without seeing all their bodies. F-Fred, Tonks, Lupin, C-Colin. It’s just too much, Harry. I couldn’t…”

Ginny collapsed into tears and buried her face in her hands. Harry stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her for the second time in two days. This time was different, though. She burrowed her face into his shoulder and sobbed while Harry shed silent tears into her hair. When it seemed she had cried all she could, she pulled back and wiped her face with her hands.

“Oh, look what I’ve done. Your shirt’s all wet. I’m sorry, Harry. I’ll go fetch you another one, if you want.”

Harry placed his finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. Ginny could see the tear tracks still wet on his face and feel his sadness in the pit of her stomach.

“It’s okay, Gin. Really.” He offered her a small smile and waved his wand at the wet spot on his shoulder.

She giggled. “Oh. Right. Magic. I forgot. Silly me.”

Harry laughed, the first laugh he’d had in ages. It feels good to laugh, he thought. With a smile on his face he pulled Ginny into his arms again. He smelled the familiar scent of her perfume and felt the soft skin of her arms. Something stirred deep within his chest. The monster was awakening, again.

“Come on, Gin. Let’s go to the house,” he said, “but you’ve got to hold on tighter this time. I don’t want to risk losing you.”

“Sure thing, Harry,” said Ginny, a little unsteadily as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry was practically electrocuting her and that place in the pit of her stomach was nearly on fire. She didn’t think the time was quite right to worry about their relationship just yet, but if Harry kept these feelings up, she might not have much choice but to snog him where he stood. All these raw emotions combined with such close physical contact were really doing a number on her patience.

The sharp squeeze of apparation drove all other thoughts from her mind, as Ginny focused solely on her connection with Harry and arriving at Grimmauld Place in one piece. The pressure subsided, and she felt her feet on solid ground, again. She and Harry untangled themselves, took each others hands and strode purposefully into the house.

“Hey, mate! ‘Bout time you got here. ‘Mione’s had me cleaning for hours already. And she’s working up some sort of duty chart on the table in the kitchen. You know Hermione. I don’t recommend going in there just yet, though. She’s a little touchy right now.”

“What did you do to her, Ron?”

“Ginny! That’s unfair! How do you know I did something? What if it was her, huh? What would you have said, then?”

“Here’s a tip, Ron. It’s always your fault. Whether it is or isn’t, it is. Do you understand? I’d better go sort this out. I’ll see you later, Harry.”

She headed towards the kitchen, leaving Ron and Harry alone.

“Mental, that one,” Ron said. “I really don’t know what you see in her. ‘Whether it is or it isn’t, it is’? What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? Makes no ruddy sense, does it?”

“I honestly don’t know, Ron. Forget about it for now. Come on, lets get to work. What have you been working on this morning?”

“The Tapestry Room, mostly. Er, sorry, I’m supposed to be calling it the ‘sitting room’ now. Anyway, the tapestry is about the only thing they didn’t tear apart, it’s bloody impossible to pull down. Hermione and I only managed to get corner of one wall down before she left to make her charts and stuff. I didn’t get much done after that. It’ll go faster with both of us working on it, though.”

They walked into the Tapestry Room, as they called it, and turned to the cloth-covered walls. Ron was right. Bellatrix and her crew had left it virtually untouched. There were a few new-looking burn marks over some names he barely recognized, but for the most part, it was just as abominable as it had been when Sirius lived here. He wanted to put Sirius’s name back on and burn the rest off. They were the ones who didn’t deserve to be called “pure” blooded.

“Burn it.” Harry whispered.

“Sorry, what? Didn’t catch that.”

“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking. I wish we could burn it. I wish we could find a way to burn all their names out and leave nothing but a pile of ash. But I don’t see how we could burn the tapestry without destroying the walls, too. I don’t fancy burning the whole house down.”

Hermione and Ginny came around the corner from the other room.

“You can just use a modified Incendio. One of the books I took with us to read while we were on the hunt had all kinds of modifications for common spells, especially Incendio. Incendio Partis will only burn a part of what you’re targeting. If you want to be really specific, just say whatever it is you want to burn. So, for this, you’d say Incendion Partis Tapestry. The tapestry would burn but the fire wouldn’t spread to anything else.”

“You’re bloody brilliant, Hermione, do you know that?”

Hermione laughed a little girly giggle as her cheeks began to turn pink, “Yes, Ron. So I’ve heard.”

“Not that I want to interrupt this flirt-fest or anything, but I do actually have a question.”

Hermione sighed and turned to Ginny, inviting her to ask her oh-so-important question.

“What about the smoke?”

“Well that’s easy! Just have somebody use their wand to blow it up the chimney.”

“Oh. Right then. I guess it sounds like a good plan.”

They divided themselves into two pairs, Ron with Hermione and Harry with Ginny. They worked steadily and slowly, checking often to make sure the wall wasn’t catching fire. Much to their surprise, the Tapestry burned off clean, leaving very old and faded, but perfectly undamaged wallpaper behind it. They did have one mishap, which drew the attention of Mr. Weasley and Bill. After they explained that it was simply Ron’s lack of focus causing the smoky haze (he’d gotten rather distracted looking at Hermione and hadn’t paid attention to where he was sending the smoke), the two men had a good laugh at Ron’s expense, and then stuck around to help finish up the last of the tapestry removal.

Harry felt a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that those evil muggle-haters got what they deserved. They swept up the ashes and threw them unceremoniously in the trashcan. That’s what the Black family meant to Harry. They were all a load of rubbish. Except for Sirius, he thought, and Tonks, and Andromeda, too, he supposed. He couldn’t have cared less about the rest of them, though.

Then there was Teddy. Technically Teddy’s last name was Lupin, but he had the Black blood through Tonks’s line, so he belonged on the tapestry, too. Harry hadn’t thought about Teddy in ages. In fact, it wasn’t until just now that he even remembered he had a godson.

“Fat lot of good I’m doing him if I can’t even remember he exists.”

“’Fat lot of good’ you’re doing who, Harry?”

“Oh, sorry. I guess I’ve gotten used to thinking out loud. I didn’t actually mean to say that. It’s Teddy, though. I’d completely forgotten about him until today. He’s a Black, too, you know. His name should have been on that tapestry. That’s what made me think of him. I just can’t believe I forgot him, Gin. He’s…he hasn’t got anyone except me and Andromeda. He’ll never know his mum or his dad. He won’t have anyone to tell him about them. They’ll lock him up. They won’t like his magic. They’ll make him wear Dudley’s old clothes. They’ll–“

“Harry, stop! Stop! He’s not with the Dursleys, Harry. He’s with his grandmum, and she loves him. She’s magical, too. She’s not going to hate his magic. She won’t even hate his Metamorphmagus abilities. Tonks was her child, too, remember? It’s okay. Calm down. Shhhhhh. It’s okay.”

Ginny had come over to stand in front of Harry, drawing his eyes to hers. She ran her hands down his arms and over his shoulders as she spoke, calming him with her touch. As she calmed him down, he layed his head on her shoulder, and she felt warm tears soak into her shirt.

She knew that Harry saw a lot of his own situation in Teddy’s life. They were both orphans. They both lost everything because of Voldemort. He just wanted to give Teddy what he never had, himself. He wanted to give him a godfather, someone to look up to who wasn’t also in charge of punishing you. In the short time that Harry had known Sirius, his life had changed dramatically. He suddenly had someone to confide in, someone to bounce ideas off of, someone who always had Harry’s best interests at heart. Teddy needed that, too. He had a loving grandmum, but he needed a man, too. Someone who would treat him like a boy and not coddle him, as grandmums tend to do.

Harry pulled away slowly, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hands.

“Now it’s you who needs a dry shirt,” Harry said.

“Don’t worry about it. I know this wizard, see. He’s not all that bright, but this morning he showed me a bit of clever magic that’ll dry this right up.”

Ginny waved her wand at her shoulder, and smiled at Harry, teasing out a small smile in return.

“It’s been a teary day, today, I guess. I mean, this morning you cried on my shoulder. This afternoon I cried on yours. Hardly seems like a fun way to spend your day.”

“It isn’t always about fun, Harry. Crying is important. Mum says it helps your body release tension, which is something we all need right now. I don’t think this will be the last of the tears, unfortunately.”

“You women. Always thinking crying helps everything. I swear, by the time you’re done with me I’ll be a blubbering arse, crying over everything. I’d rather release tension some other way. Like…flying! Gin! We should go flying later!”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, Harry, but we’re all kind of busy around here. I don’t know that there will be much time for flying.”

“Pardon me, miss. I thought I was talking to Ginny Weasley, aspiring Quidditch player extraordinaire. My mistake. I guess I’ll just have to go find someone better to fly with.”

“Oh, ha, ha, Harry. Laugh while you can. As soon as I finish up with George’s shop I’ll wipe that cheeky smile off your face. There is no one better than me, Potter, and you bloody well know it!”

“Trust me, Gin. I know there’s no one that could even compare to you.”

The burning in her stomach and that look in his eyes told her they weren’t just talking about Quidditch, anymore.

“Well, there, then. I’m the best. You admit it. I’ll still be the best when I’m finished with George’s shop. You can wait. Besides, you have things to do, too, Mr., ‘Let’s completely remodel my house before Hermione’s parent’s get back’. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Harry took a step forward, closing the gap between them and taking a firm hold on her arm. He’d gotten taller over his absence, as well as stronger, and Ginny found she had to crane her neck to look into his eyes.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to wait for you, Gin. I just think we all have different ways of healing.”

With that, he bent down and placed a burning kiss on her cheek, before turning and walking swiftly out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Ginny hadn’t slept properly in weeks. It wasn’t because she was still suffering from that same silent insomnia. Oh, no. It was all because of Harry-bloody-Potter.

Nothing had changed between them since their conversation (if you could even call it that) a few weeks ago, but the spark between them had grown until Ginny could barely stand to be in a room with him, anymore. Lately, it hadn’t seemed to matter if they were even in the same house. Ginny had taken to spending more time at George’s shop, especially since they were still in the “rebuilding” phase at Grimmauld Place. Her slight build made it difficult for her to do all the heavy-lifting required to fix the place. Once her Dad and Bill had gotten the stairs repaired, they had to rebuild all the floors upstairs as well as most of the interior walls. Magic leveled the field for Ginny a bit, as she could lighten things and move them easier, but her Dad wanted to do much of it “the Muggle way”, so she was reduced to passing hammers and nails to the men. Her time was better served at George’s.

That wasn’t to say she’d given up on Grimmauld Place, entirely. She still went by at least once a day, for a bit, if only to check up on them and see what was going on. She’d made loads of progress at the shop, though. She and Angelina had finally tackled the potions mess, and had finished that up just yesterday. The stock room was sorted out again, and they were putting the finishing touches on the exterior. They still had some work to do on the inside, but they were planning on showing it to George sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Because they were both so busy, her time with Harry had been limited. They still talked when they could, but they didn’t get much opportunity. It wasn’t that they were avoiding each other, because they certainly weren’t. They just didn’t get to see much of each other.

It didn’t mean Ginny wasn’t on his mind, though. Certainly, not. While Ginny couldn’t feel him when they were working so far apart, every time they came back to the Burrow and he caught sight of her, she could practically hear his thoughts. It seemed that as he was recovering, so were his feelings for Ginny. She didn’t mind, of course, except that he often dreamed about Ginny, which caused those currents of electricity even when he wasn’t conscious. Since they’d been getting stronger and stronger, they often woke Ginny up in the middle of the night. When it was warm and clear outside, she tried taking a blanket out to the yard and sleeping under the stars, but it seemed that it wasn’t enough distance to keep the sparks away. After a week of this, she gave it up as a lost cause and accepted that she was going to have some sleepless nights until she and Harry let off some of the tension.

She didn’t think that would happen any time soon, either, especially if she left it up to Harry. They were both waiting for the “right time”, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that the “right time” may never come. Not to mention the fact that they were both clearly emotionally ready for a relationship. Harry might still be nervous, but if she waited for the boy to get over his nervousness she’d be waiting for the rest of her life. Admittedly, they were both far too busy right now to add a relationship into the mix, but after she gave the shop back to George, she’d have a little more time to herself. Angelina had already said she’d help George run the place, so she wasn’t worried about leaving him there on his own, or anything like that. But there was still so much to do, even without the shop. Would she have time for a relationship? Harry just made things so much more complicated.

Ginny sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, freeing it from the loose braid she’d thrown it into when Harry’s dreams had first woken her up. She yawned and glanced at her watch. Four-bloody-thirty. Spectacular.

She looked around for something to do and caught sight of a book Hermione had left lying around. Ginny had seen Hermione poring over it earlier, and curiously reached for it. Law Practices and Customs of Witches and Wizards in Northern England from 463 B.C. to 59 B.C., it said on the front. Hermione read the most absolutely boring books Ginny had ever heard of.

Maybe it’s for the best Hermione’s books are boring. It’ll put me right to sleep, Ginny thought. She opened to a random page and began reading. As she expected, the book was fantastically dull, and she soon found her eyelids getting heavier and falling shut.

BANG!

The heavy book hit the floor as Ginny shot into the air. Harry-BLOODY-Potter and your stupid DREAMS! Can’t you dream about something else for once! Harry had sent a rather nasty shock through Ginny and awoken her right at the point of sleep.

Well that’s it for tonight, then. I’ll have to make the best of it.

She sat in thought on the couch for another moment, and then stood and walked out the back door, putting her hair into a tight ponytail as she went. She walked straight to the broom shed and went inside. Three minutes, and several overturned buckets later, she emerged clutching an old broom. Confident that the darkness would conceal her, she straddled her broom, and kicked off into the night.

Freedom.

The warm summer breeze pulled at her hair and clothes as she flew. She started slow, as she hadn’t been on a broom in well over a year, especially one as old as this, but as she regained her balance and confidence, she flew faster and higher, executing steep dives and tight rolls. Flying released some of the tension caused by her undetermined relationship with Harry, and she found that the harder she flew, the better she felt. Her maneuvers became more and more difficult, reaching the outer edges of her archaic broom’s handling capabilities. In the middle of a particularly nasty barrel roll combination, Ginny lost control and went tumbling to the ground.

She landed with a crack, and pain flowered up her left leg. She knew without even trying that it would never support her weight, and her broom had landed somewhere outside her reach. Not that it would have done her much good anyway, as she doubted she’d be able to fly with a broken leg. To make it worse, in her single-minded attention to her maneuvers, she hadn’t noticed that she’d gone to the far outskirts of the Weasley property. It was unlikely someone would stumble upon her out here, especially at five o’clock in the morning.

She considered shooting up sparks or sending a Patronus, but she could just see the first hints of dawn on the horizon and she knew no one would be awake to see her signals, yet. She’d have to wait. Hopefully Harry would wake up soon and come looking for her.

Ginny gritted her teeth against the pain, and moved her leg into a more natural position, so it could begin to heal. Just as she was about to try and get comfortable and sleep a bit, she heard the unmistakable crack of apparation, followed by rapid footsteps behind her.

Ginny tensed and reached for her wand, only to discover that it wasn’t in her pocket. She’d left it next to her bed when she woke up this morning.

Idiot. Stupid idiot, she silently berated herself. The best she could do now was hope they didn’t discover her.

As the steps got closer and closer to her, however, she knew that whoever was out there knew exactly where she was. Ginny was really wishing she’d been more insistent that Harry teach her how to apparate, though whether it could be done with a broken leg and no wand, she had no idea.

A sudden feeling of concern washed over Ginny, and it carried the distinctive trace of Harry with it. Ginny paused in her worry, and concentrated on the feeling in her core, attempting to isolate Harry’s location. The answer she got was unexpected, but not at all unwelcome.

“Harry? I’m over here,” she called.

The footsteps came faster and Harry appeared over the top of the reeds.

“There you are! I knew you were here, but I couldn’t see you. How do you always know when I’m coming?” Harry asked.

“I told you, Harry. Distinctive breathing patterns. But that’s not important right now. I’m so glad you’re here. Can you help me? I can’t get up.”

“You can’t? Why not? What happened? I thought you were hurt, but I didn’t know why or how. I just woke up and knew you were out here and needed help. I kept hoping I was dreaming and that you weren’t really hurt, but, well, I guess I wasn’t dreaming.”

“Not about this, you weren’t,” Ginny mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing, Harry. Nothing. Now can you please help me up so I can get back inside?”

“Sure thing. Here.”

Ginny expected him to let her hang on his shoulder and half-walk the way back, but he, apparently, had other plans. Carefully, but quickly, he scooped Ginny up in his arms and began to carry her towards the Burrow.

“Harry! I can walk a bit, you know. You don’t have to carry me.”

“Well, Gin, you weigh approximately as much as your average pixie, so it’s really not a problem. Merlin, I don’t remember you being this light! I think I could toss you up and catch you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t just now, if it’s all the same. And I’m not any lighter, you’re just a bit stronger. Besides, you didn’t exactly carry me around Hogwarts, so how can you know how light I was?”

“No, but you rode on my back a couple times. And there were those times when you and I were rather, er, cozy and you’d be, you know, sitting on me, or something. You weren’t heavy then, either, but I swear you’ve gotten lighter.”

The thought of those times made Ginny’s cheeks redden, and she was slightly amused to see Harry was flushed a bit, too.

“Well, anyway, Gin. What were you doing out in the middle of the night?”

“Flying. I couldn’t sleep. I tried reading Hermione’s boring law books, but even that didn’t help. Couldn’t think of anything else to do, and ever since you mentioned flying a couple weeks ago, its all I’ve been able to think about when I’m up late at night.”

“You’re up like this a lot? Its not still the nightmares, is it? I thought you were over those years ago. But, I guess, given the circumstances I would understand if they’d come back.”

“No, no, it’s not that. Not exactly. I just haven’t been able to sleep through the night for the past few weeks. It’s…well I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, and placed her gently on the ground. He plopped down next to her and got comfortable. They were within sight of the Burrow, but still far enough away to have privacy.

“Why don’t you try me. I might understand better than you think. Besides, I don’t like that you’ve been staying up all night and still leaving earlier than any of the rest of us. You’ve got to be exhausted. When are you sleeping?”

“Well, I get some rest here and there. I take naps and things. I just can’t sleep at night, especially not here.”

“Well why not? Are you afraid? What’s wrong with the Burrow? Or is it just your room? Has Ron been sneaking in to snog Hermione? Merlin, that kept me up for a while. I’m glad they’ve finally given that up.”

“They haven’t given it up, Harry. You’ve just been sleeping more soundly than usual. Hermione still sneaks into your room every night and sleeps in Ron’s bed.”

“Really? I’ve been sleeping through it?”

“Absolutely. Since I’ve been going to bed earlier, Hermione doesn’t even stop by my room at night anymore. She goes straight up after you’ve fallen asleep.”

“How do you know all this? Haven’t you been sleeping at all?”

“I sleep just fine until everybody else gets to bed. After that, no.”

“Well? Why not?”

“The short answer is, because your dreams distract me.”

“My dreams distract you? That makes no ruddy sense, and you know it. Come on. Quit messing with me. Listen, Ginny, I’m seriously worried about you. I want to help.”

She saw the concern in his eyes and felt his love for her deep inside. She placed a hand on her stomach, over the warmth in her gut, and felt its heat on her cool fingers. Ginny took a long, slow breath.

“It’s a long story, so promise to just listen, okay?” Harry nodded and she continued. “Okay, then. I’m going to say this the only way I know how: I have a connection with you, and have had one since the end of my first year of Hogwarts. It started after you rescued me from Tom in the Chamber. I didn’t know what to make of it at first. It wasn’t like I could read your mind or anything like that. I just…well in the beginning I didn’t know what it was. It was just a strange feeling I had. When you visited the Burrow the next year, it got stronger. That’s how I knew it was connected to you. In that first year it was mostly just that I knew you were alive. I could feel it, in here,” She pressed a hand into her gut. “But the longer I knew you, the more it changed. During the Triwizard Tournament it became a sort of indicator of your energy level. The more tired you were, the cooler my “Harry Spot” would be. The next year I discovered I could sense your moods when we were in the same room. The year after that, my fifth year, your sixth…well, things got interesting. It was when you were here that summer that I noticed it for the first time. You looked at me differently and suddenly it wasn’t just warmth in my gut, but tiny sparks racing up and down my back.” Harry’s cheeks tinged pink, but Ginny didn’t notice. She hadn’t really been looking at him while she was telling her story. “I had no idea what that meant until much later. Turns out, that was what happened when you were thinking about me in a strictly non-sisterly sort of way. After we started dating, it was a near-constant state of being. It was like a sort of sexual tension that I could actually feel. Every time we kissed it sort of released some of that tension for a while, and it calmed down the sparks. I got used to them. Then the next year you were gone. I knew you weren’t dead because I could feel it, and even though you were far away, I could sometimes tell that you were extremely sad and lonely. When you died…Merlin, Harry. It felt like I died. I was so cold and empty inside. Your life-force had been warming me for the last six years and suddenly it was gone. It was the worst feeling in my entire life. I’ll never forget what it felt like to live in a world where you didn’t exist. When I finally felt the warmth again, I couldn’t have been happier. Since then it’s gotten even stronger. I can tell where you are, almost exactly, from anywhere on this property. When we’re at Grimmauld Place or George’s shop, I can tell there, too. I know your emotions much more precisely than I ever did before. When you think of me it sends a wave of fire through my entire body. When you feel, you know, affectionate, it sends sparks straight down my back, much more powerfully than before. That’s what’s been keeping me up all night. You’ve been having some rather steamy dreams of me, I suppose, and they literally shock me awake. I can’t sleep through them. I don’t know what’s happening in there,” she tapped his forehead, “but I can tell you like it.”

Harry’s face was on fire now, and dimly, Ginny was registering that he was extremely embarrassed.

“Look, Harry. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you can help what you dream. And, honestly, I’d rather be woken up by a dream about me than to wake up terrified, knowing you’re dreaming about him.”

“I didn’t…I can’t…This has been happening for years?”

Ginny nodded. "Not exactly like this, but yeah."

“And I never knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would I have said, Harry? It’s not like you would’ve enjoyed learning that your best mate’s baby sister had intimate knowledge of you and that she couldn’t control it. It was really scary, at first. I couldn’t understand what was going on, but I was too afraid to ask anybody about it. I’d already been possessed by Voldemort. I was afraid if anyone knew I was somehow linked to Harry Potter they’d chuck me in the loony bin. You probably would’ve kept as far away from me as possible if you’d known. I couldn’t possibly tell you.”

“Fair point. But why tell me now, then?”

“You wanted to know the truth, and I’m tired of making up stories. Besides that, we’re both older now, we’ve been through more. It’s not as scary as it would have been when we were kids. Something like this is almost welcome. It reminds you how close you are to the people you love.”

Harry thought for a moment about everything Ginny had told him. If what she said was true, and he had no reason to think it wasn’t, then he’d been the cause of many a sleepless night lately. He hadn’t had a good night of sleep until he started dreaming about Ginny, and before that his dreams were too gruesome to think about anymore. He doubted she’d had a decent sleep since the battle, except for those nights when he was awake. He didn’t like the idea that his sleeping was preventing her from going off to dreamland. He’d rather he be the one awake, if it meant Ginny got to sleep.

“Harry, stop it. It isn’t your fault.”

His eyes widened in surprise and slight panic. Ginny laughed.

“Don’t freak out. I still can’t read your mind. But I told you, I can read your emotions very precisely, so it’s very close to reading your mind. And really, Harry. It isn’t all that difficult to know when you’re feeling guilty. I don’t have to read your emotions, I can see it on your face.”

“I just feel bad for keeping you awake all summer. You probably haven’t slept at all, have you?”

“Not much, but I get by. I’ve never been one of those people who needs loads of sleep. I was doing alright until recently, actually. And even still, I’m managing. If I hadn’t fallen off my broom today I could very well have kept it up for a lot longer. It’s just those dreams, Harry. I really hope they’re worth all the lost sleep.”

Harry’s deepening blush and the jolt she felt told her they were definitely worth it. Her body was still buzzing, when Harry leaned over with a gleam in his eye and said, “What was it you said made the shocks more manageable? Kissing?”

And then his lips covered hers. They were soft and warm and Ginny welcomed his affection. Careful not to jar her leg, Harry wrapped an arm around Ginny’s back, digging his fingers into her hair and crushing her mouth against his. He kissed her hungrily, as if he was making up for all the time they lost while they were apart. Her hands ran over his back, gripping his shoulders or playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry’s arms tightened around her as his mouth opened and his tongue brushed across her lips. Ginny’s tongue darted out to meet his, and their kiss deepened.

It wasn’t until Ginny moved her leg while trying to curl into Harry’s body that they stopped. Ginny pulled back with a sharp gasp of pain and Harry bent over her leg to make sure they hadn’t done any worse damage.

“I think we’d better get you inside before we make this worse.”

“Probably a good idea.”

Ginny winced as Harry picked her back up off the ground. She knew they looked like a mess. Her ponytail had come apart completely, thanks to Harry, and his hair was messier than usual, as well. Their shirts were both wrinkled and Ginny’s was stained green from the grass she’d fallen in. She was just hoping she could blame it all on the trek back to the Burrow, her fall off the broom, and Harry’s early rising. Her mum would just be so happy to have Ginny safe that she wouldn’t worry about the fact that her face was flushed and her lips were swollen, obviously from kissing. Not to mention that the handsome man carrying her into the house was in the exact same shape, except for the broken leg.

Harry sat her carefully on the couch and went upstairs to fetch Mrs. Weasley. The sun was just appearing on the horizon, and the sky was a pleasant shade of pink. Ginny ran her fingers through her hair, and tried to calm down her pulsing body before her mum came in to examine her. In just moments, she heard Molly Weasley’s rapid footsteps descending the stairs.

“Ginny! I’m so glad you’re okay! Harry told me what happened. What were you doing flying all by yourself at night? If he hadn’t happened to find you while out on his morning walk, you might still be out there. How did you plan on getting back to the Burrow with a leg like this? How many times have I told you children never to fly alone? Now lie back and be still, dear, I’m going to set the bone so I can start healing it.”

It was a good thing Molly didn’t expect an answer to any of her questions because she didn’t leave Ginny any time to answer them. Before she even had an opportunity to grit her teeth, her mum was shifting the bone into its proper place. Ginny’s sharp cry of pain brought Harry to stand behind the couch, looking down into her face as she lay there.

Ginny reached up a hand, and gripped Harry’s. As Molly set about healing the broken bone, she squeezed his hand, drawing strength from him. Finally, Molly pulled her wand away and sighed.

“Well dear, you’re all set,” she said to Ginny as she positioned a pillow under Ginny’s head. She turned to Harry. “Healing always makes her sleepy. I expect you to take care of her while I make breakfast, young man. I’m thrilled to death that you’ve finally come to your senses and gotten back together, but now you have to show us that you can actually care for her. I’m off to the kitchen. Keep her company while she naps, will you, Harry? That’s a dear.”

Both Harry and Ginny stared in wonder at Molly Weasley’s retreating back. How she already knew what had happened just moments ago was astonishing, but not altogether surprising. She’d known about Hermione and Ron since the beginning, but hadn’t said anything to them about it yet. Maybe she approved of all of this more than she let on.

Harry moved around the side of the couch until he was sitting next to Ginny’s head. Her eyelids were already beginning to droop, and he held her hand until she dropped off to sleep. He didn’t want to disturb her with his dreams, but he’d woken up far earlier than usual this morning. Besides that, Mrs. Weasley had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was to stay with her until she woke up. Grabbing Hermione’s law book off the floor where Ginny had dropped it, and positioning a pillow against the couch near Ginny’s head, he settled in to do a little reading.

When Molly Weasley came to check on them 10 minutes later, she found them both fast asleep, Harry’s head resting next to Ginny’s and her hand clutched in his, Hermione’s book lying forgotten on the floor once again.


	6. Chapter 6

Ginny woke to darkness and an unpleasant pain in her neck. She rolled over, trying to get more comfortable and go back to sleep, when she encountered a mysterious lack of bed, and dumped herself unceremoniously onto the floor. The strange lump she had landed on groaned and tried to sit up. Ginny quickly scrambled up, untangling herself from the blanket she was wrapped in.

She was not in her bed. That much was clear. She guessed, by the blanket and the smaller-than-usual “bed”, that she was in the living room, on the couch. And that writhing lump of blankets she’d landed on was most likely a person, though she couldn’t imagine who. It wasn’t Hermione, unless her voice had deepened significantly without Ginny’s noticing.

“Uggggh. Merlin, Gin. Why’d you have to roll off the couch?” The mound of blankets shifted and a face appeared.

Ah. That was it. Harry. Of course. Though why was Harry…ohhhh. It all came rushing back to her. She’d been out flying when she broke her leg. Harry had brought her back into the Burrow. Harry had kissed her. Then her mum must have healed her leg, and Ginny fell asleep. Healing always took the life right out of her. She must not have slept long, though, if it was still dark out. But where was her mum? The kitchen was dead silent. Ginny would’ve expected her to just stay up and make breakfast early, since it was almost morning anyway.

“Sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to. Where’d mum go?”

Harry sat up and rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

“Where’d your mum go? She’s in bed. It’s the middle of the night. Where did you expect her to be.”

“Well I would’ve thought she’d have stayed up and made breakfast instead of going back to bed.”

“Gin, she did stay up and make breakfast…this morning. You’ve been asleep nearly a whole day. I’ve never seen anyone so tired after a healing. Madam Pomphrey regrew my whole arm, once, and I wasn’t this tired.”

“Healing always drains me. I’m not sure why. It’s why Mum always makes me lie down when I take medi-potions or when she mends a bone. I’ve never slept a whole day before, though.”

“Well it probably had to do with the fact that you hadn’t slept for weeks before this. Your mum was worried she’d done something wrong, and I had to try and explain to her that you were exhausted to start with.”

“Right. I do feel more energized than I’ve felt in a month or so. And my leg feels completely better.”

“That’s great, love, but I’d really like to go back to sleep. Do you think you can keep out of trouble long enough for me to get a little rest?” Harry wriggled back down under his blanket with a cheeky grin, and got comfy. Ginny made to get up and sit across the room to read, when Harry’s seeker-trained hand shot out and gripped her leg.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Ginny looked at him, confused.

“I’m keeping out of trouble so you can sleep. I was going to do some reading, but my book is upstairs. I can’t read another word of that ruddy law book of Hermione’s. Besides, I don’t want the light of my wand to disturb you. I’ll sit over by the window.”

“That sounds like a good plan, love. But what I meant was, where do you think you’re going without giving me a goodnight kiss?”

Ginny chuckled as she looked down into Harry’s laughing eyes, and sarcastic smile. She missed this about their relationship together, the playfulness. He was always so much more childlike than anyone ever suspected. He loved to play games with her and joke around. It was one of the things she’d come to love most about her Harry Potter.

Ginny bent to gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, but Harry put his hand behind her neck and pulled her down for an electrifying kiss that left her breathless. Finally, but far too soon, he pulled back, caressed her face, and burrowed farther under his blankets to return to sleep. Ginny smoothed the hair away from his forehead and climbed the stairs to gather her book from her room.

Ginny pushed open the door cautiously, hoping not to see Hermione and her brother in there, and was pleasantly surprised to find a completely different sight. Hermione was there, but Ron, thankfully, was not. The bushy-haired witch was curled up in the corner of her cot, nose buried deep in another law book. She didn’t lift her eyes from the page when she heard the creak of Ginny’s door.

“I thought I told you to stay in your own room, tonight. Honestly, Ron, one night alone, without snogging, won’t kill you, and I said I wanted to get some reading done, and maybe talk to Ginny, if she ever wakes up. Just go back to your room, and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Hermione finally looked up and her mouth formed a little “o” at the sight of a distinctly different Weasley standing in the doorway.

“Expecting someone else, Hermione? I’m glad to know you do bar Ron from my room at least sometimes. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever sleep alone again.”

“Ginny! You’re awake! Oh, I’m so sorry about all that, I thought you were Ron. I told him–”

“I think I pretty much heard what you told him, actually, Hermione.” Ginny smiled at her friend, “It’s good to have you back. I’ve missed talking to you.”

“Oh, I’ve missed talking to you, too. That’s why I told him to bugger off for tonight. I wanted a chance to talk to you about, you know, girl things.”

Ginny sat shyly, but eagerly, on the other end of Hermione’s cot, and pulled a corner of the blanket over her legs.

“What sorts of girl things, Hermione? Things like you and my thick-headed brother finally realizing what the rest of us have known for ages,” Ginny teased.

Hermione blushed a fantastic shade of scarlet.

“Yes, that. And other things. Like, did you know that a certain black-haired wizard sat with you all day while you slept?”

“He was there the whole day? What did he do that whole time?”

“Well I’m not exactly sure. He read a little, I think, and napped. Mostly he just sat there. Ron and I talked to him for a bit, but he was too afraid to wake you, so he didn’t say much. Your mum did manage to convince him that you weren’t going to fade away while he was eating, so he ate with the rest of us at the table. But he was always just scarfing things down, rushing to get back to you. Scared Ron with how fast he was eating, actually, and you know that’s not easy to do. What’s going on?”

It was Ginny’s turn to blush, now.

“We had a talk last night, after I broke my leg. Then we kissed and I think we’re back together, now. He never said we were, but he’s never been good at words. It’s what we both want, and, honestly, I don’t see how it could be any other way. I love him, Hermione.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock.

“You love him? Ginny, you’re 16. You aren’t even of age, yet. How can you possibly know you love him? You haven’t spent much time with him since we got back. He’s different than he was before. It just isn’t logical.”

“Logic has nothing to do with the heart, Hermione. I thought you wouldn’t figured that out by now. Besides, I know exactly how different he is, but I also know that he’s the same in all the important ways. Look, I don’t exactly expect you to understand, but I’ve known for years that I loved Harry. He loves me too, you know. He doesn’t know it yet, and I can’t explain to you how I know how he feels, but I do. He and I…yes, we’re different. Both of us are. I feel so much older, Hermione, and I can’t help but think he does, too. But no matter how much we change, we’ll always love each other. We’re connected in a way that nobody else can understand. Being ‘together’ again is a formality at best. We were never not together, Hermione. Not when he broke up with me in 5th year, not when you all left last summer and we were thousands of miles apart, and not when he came back and we didn’t speak to each other because of our grief. Never. I love him. I don’t think I could ever not love him. Honestly, Hermione? Logic? Tell me what’s logical about loving my brother. At least Harry has a few ounces of sense.”

Hermione sat speechless on the other end of the bed. She’d watched Ginny’s eyes blaze as she talked and knew that what she’d said was true, at least as Ginny saw it. She couldn’t imagine how all this had happened and she hadn’t known. Ginny had told her that she had a crush on Harry, but she’d advised her to put it behind her, and Ginny had, so Hermione thought. Then they’d started dating, and Hermione knew that Ginny had never really let go of Harry. Was this so different? Ginny had proven to be rather less than honest when it came to her feelings for Harry. Had she simply lied to Hermione about it all those years ago?

Ginny must have seen the hurt in Hermione’s eyes, because she reached across the space between them and grabbed the other girl’s hand.

“Don’t be angry. I didn’t really understand what it all meant until recently. And I still have questions I can’t answer. I just…I don’t know if I’m ready to tell you the whole story yet. It’s deeply personal for both Harry and I, and I want to know his full reaction before I go telling others. I trust you, Hermione. It’s not about that. It’s just that I want this to be between Harry and me for a while. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Ginny. I really wish I knew what was going on. I get the feeling that there’s something big you aren’t telling me. But, I just want you to know that, even though I haven’t really been here lately,” Hermione gestured to the room around them, “I’m always willing to listen to you. And I really do miss these chats, though I liked them better when I knew what was going on.”

Ginny laughed.

“I understand, Hermione. Why don’t we talk about something you’re an expert on. Tell me about you and Ron. And don’t try and pretend like I don’t know what’s happening there, because you’ve been sneaking around for months, and we all know about it. Even mum. So tell me everything.”

Hermione blushed again, and fussed with the blankets.

“Well, I don’t know that there’s much to tell,” she said, looking down at the bed, “I mean, we’re together. I don’t know what else to say. And Ron does have a couple ounces of sense, actually. At least, sometimes he does.”

“No, he doesn’t, Hermoine. But it’s okay. You have enough for the both of you. And I’m not taking that rubbish excuse about not knowing what to say. You know exactly what to say. Tell me about how you feel, Hermione.”

“Well, I suppose I feel extremely happy. It’s Ron, you know? I think I’ve fancied him for, oh I don’t know, ages, I guess. It’s probably his lack of sense that draws me to him, actually. He’s a bit like a lost puppy, I think. Anyway. Now we finally get to be together. It’s been strange, though, too. I mean, we used to fight so much, and now we spend most of our time doing…other things.”

“Like snogging. Yeah, I understand. I don’t think that’ll last much longer though, do you?”

“What, the snogging? If Ron knows what’s good for him, the snogging will last a very long time into the future. Oh, pick your jaw up off the floor, Ginny. Don’t pretend it’s just the boys who like to kiss. You know you like kissing Harry, and I like kissing Ron. If I have to hear you talk about snogging my brother, you have to listen to me talk about snogging yours. But, anyway, the fighting, who knows? It was certainly interesting fighting with Ron, but I think right now we’re just enjoying being together.”

Ginny stared at Hermione, mouth agape. A roar of laughter escaped her, and before they knew it both girls were doubled over, laughing as hard as they could remember.

“Honestly, Hermione,” Ginny said between giggles, “I really didn’t need to know how much you love snogging my brother. That’s just…repulsive. Kissing Ron.”

Ginny made a gagging motion, and Hermione swatted her on the arm.

“Well thinking of you kissing Harry is similar, you know.”

“But you didn’t grow up with him. You didn’t watch him put all sorts of nasty things in his mouth. Really, Hermione. You don’t know where that mouth has been.”

“Ugh, I’d rather not know all that about Ron, thank you. Harry, either. Boys are so disgusting sometimes. How they go through childhood being so dirty I’ll never understand. I’m happy in my naivety, thanks.”

“Well at least with Harry I don’t have to think about it as much, because ever since I’ve met him, he’s kept himself quite clean.”

“The first time I met Ron he had dirt on his nose. I guess I was doomed to a life with a dirty, stinky boy from day one, then. Oh well. We can’t all have the good-smelling ones.”

The girls laughed again, and settled into a companionable silence for a few moments, as each girl swam in her own thoughts. Hermione turned and looked at Ginny, who was gazing out the window.

“We’re the luckiest witches in the world, you know. You, especially. Not that I’m jealous of you. I have Ron. Harry’s like my brother, for Merlin’s sake. But you’re dating the Wizarding World’s Most Eligible Bachelor. Furthermore, you say he loves you and you love him. You’re the girl who gets to date the man who saved the whole world. And I can call him my brother. And then there’s Ron. He’s the man who was Harry’s sort of sidekick, but also his teammate. I get to date the man who Harry Potter calls ‘best friend’. And he’s your brother. We’re dating two of the most powerful men in the world. Harry probably wouldn’t even have to answer to Kingsley if he didn’t want to. And yet, to us, they’re just Harry and Ron. How’d we get so lucky?”

“I don’t know, Hermione. I don’t think ‘luck’ has much of anything to do with it, though. I’ve never really believed in luck. I think it was fate. I’ve been entranced with Harry Potter since I was a kid and I heard his stories. I never dreamed I’d meet him. I never even imagined I’d be in a relationship with him. But here I am. You’re right. Every witch in the world wishes she was me. That’s a pretty powerful feeling.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

The companionable silence returned, and they each sat quietly, until the silence was broken by Hermione’s quiet yawn.

“Oh, Hermione, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you up. I just came up to get a book so I could read while Harry sleeps. I’ll let you get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Ginny.”

She collected her book and her wand, and quietly made her way back downstairs. Seeing that Harry was sound asleep, she curled up next to the window to read. It wasn’t long before her eyes began to feel heavy again. After nodding off for the third time, Ginny finally put her book down, and went over to the couch to get a little more sleep before the sun came up.

She had intended to sleep on the couch, but upon closer inspection of Harry’s sleeping nest, she noticed that he had taken all the blankets and all the pillows off it, and was sprawled across and under them, all twisted up. She tried to extricate a single pillow and blanket to use, but every time she would try to move one, he would stir, and she was afraid she'd wake him. She could go up to her bed, but she just didn’t want to leave him here alone, on the floor. It seemed wrong when he’d so patiently sat with her all day. With a sigh, Ginny accepted that she had only one other option.

Lifting a corner of the blanket pile, she wiggled her way into Harry’s cocoon. As if on intinct, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, sending warmth and love through their connection. A deep, contented sigh came from the back of his throat, and Ginny smiled to herself. She took a deep breath of his scent, and burrowed deeper into Harry’s embrace, closing her eyes to the best night of sleep she’d ever had in her life. And she dreamed of their future.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry didn’t know if it was the sunlight that woke him or whatever was tickling his nose as he breathed. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but he could see the light through his eyelids and feel it on his face.

And something was definitely tickling his nose.

He reached his arm up to swat it away, only to feel his arm was wrapped tightly around something, or what felt more like someone.

His eyes snapped open and met the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Ginny slept peacefully, wrapped in his arms. Her hair sparkled in the sunlight, and her face bore the most innocent expression Harry had ever seen. It was her long, copper hair that was tickling him. He pulled his arm away from Ginny, and pulled the long strand of hair away from his face, smiling as he did. He bent to give her a kiss on the forehead when he heard the most terrifying sound of his life.

“Ahem.”

Harry’s eyes jerked up and met four sets of identical Weasley blue gazing at him with a mixture of amusement and impending doom. Harry disentangled himself from Ginny slowly, careful to maintain eye contact with her brothers. Ginny sighed and rolled into the space Harry was previously occupying as he carefully climbed out of his “bed” on the floor. Bill motioned for him to follow them, and then led the way outside.

Harry felt like he was walking to his death. He wasn’t this afraid walking through the forest to meet Voldemort, but just walking across the Burrow’s lawn with these four men gave him a serious fear for his life. He honestly didn’t know how Ginny had gotten down there with him. She must have climbed in after she got done reading last night, but how was he supposed to explain that to four dangerous-looking brothers? Even George was looking slightly intimidating, though it was tinged with his ever-present sadness. Bill led them to a little copse of trees not far from the house, but where they could not easily be seen or heard. No sooner had they stopped, than he whirled to face Harry, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Explain yourself, Potter.”

“Er, explain what? I was asleep. I didn’t even know she was there.”

“Didn’t know she was there!? You looked awfully cozy, all wrapped around her like that, if you didn’t even know she was there.”

“Look, Bill, I don’t know what to tell you. When I went to sleep, she was up in her room taking bloody forever to fetch a book. When I woke up, well, you were there, so you know what happened.”

“Yeah, I saw it. I don’t really understand it, though.”

“What my brother is trying to say, Harry, is that he’d like to know how you and Ginevra came to be together in the first place. When you broke up with her and ran off after Bill’s wedding, we all assumed you were done with her. She didn’t take it well, you know. Pined after you the whole time you were away.”

“You, of all people, should know better than to assume things about people, Percy. I’ve never been ‘done’ with Ginny, as you put it. We just had to go on break for a while. I missed her, too, but we both understood what had to be done.”

“Didn’t seem like you were missing her much out there in the woods, mate,” Ron said.

“Well, I was. Why d’you think I kept the Marauder’s Map? I checked it every night when I was on guard duty to be sure she was safe in Gryffindor Tower.”

“You kept the map, Harry? We- er- I wondered if you still used it.”

Harry looked at George askance. Even after accidentally using “we” instead of “I”, which usually set George back for days, mention of the Marauder’s Map had put a slight twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah, George. Use it all the time. Dead useful, that thing. One of the best tools I’ve got.”

George smiled a tiny smile.

“Well, I still don’t understand,” Bill interjected. “If you never gave her up, why’d you break up with her? And what gives you the right to just pick back up again? She isn’t something you can just play around with when it’s convenient, Potter. She isn’t a toy.”

“No, Bill. Ginny is anything but a toy. She’s a woman. A strong woman. If I hadn’t broken up with her to go hunt down Voldemort, eventually she would have given me a strong kick in the arse and broken up with me herself. She knew I couldn’t go if I was always thinking about my commitment to her. So, she let me release myself from that commitment. But she never once thought it was over. Did Ron ever tell you what he saw before we left?” Ron shook his head in the negative, as the three remaining brothers turned to him.

Ron’s face looked grim as he shared his news with his brothers.

“He kissed her. On his birthday. Marched right into her room and kissed her full on the lips. She didn’t even have time to tell him to stop. I still don’t know if I’m okay with it.”

Harry laughed.

“Is that what you think happened? Let me tell you the real story. Ginny wanted to give me my birthday gift in private, so she led me up to her room and she kissed me. I was the one who didn’t have time to say ‘stop’, and I wouldn’t have, anyway. We had one kiss. Neither of us knew if I’d come back or if I’d be the same Harry when I did. That one last kiss had to last a lifetime. It was the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten. Ginny knew that nothing could come of it, but she gave it anyway. And then you stormed in and accused me of playing with her feelings. As if a woman strong enough to send the man she cares about into battle with only a kiss to remember her would allow her emotions to be played with. Ginny is far too strong for that. Every boy who’s ever tried to manipulate her, or prey on her fragile emotional state has ended up brokenhearted and hexed to oblivion. I would never even think about trying it. Besides, Ginny’s worth so much more than a wanker like that. Hell, she’s worth a lot more than me, but for some reason she’s willing to put up with all the danger and hurt that goes along with being with me. I can’t explain it, okay? She…she just knows me and I know her. You know her, too. That’s why you had to bring me so far out here, where we can’t really be seen. You know that if she saw you treating me like this she’d be out here in a second to hex your bits off. What makes you think I could ever take advantage of a witch like that? I care about Ginny so much. I don’t know how she got into those blankets with me, but if I have the opportunity to wake up to her beautiful face like that in the future, you can bet I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen.”

George, Bill, Ron, and Percy all looked at Harry with a combination of awe and reluctant acceptance. For Bill, no one, not even Harry Potter, would ever be worthy of his baby sister, and his gaze said as much. Ron, on the other hand, looked almost relieved to have the two of them together again. He clapped Harry on the back.

“Welcome to the family, then, mate.”

Harry’s face reddened as he smiled, and the four men laughed for a moment, Bill still looking on disapprovingly. When at last they turned to walk back to the Burrow, they caught sight of a slightly disheveled Ginny waltzing slowly towards them in her pajamas, twirling her wand between her fingers.

“Having fun out here, boys?” Ginny called across the yard.

“Yeah. Just a nice little walk in the woods with young Harry here,” George yelled back. “Nothing to worry your little head about, Ginnykins.”

Ginny didn’t let her surprise at George’s mood show, as she continued to approach the men with a cat-like smile.

“What do you say, Harry? Everything all right? They aren’t giving you a hard time, are they?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, love. Just bloke stuff.”

“Mmmm,” Ginny said, still smiling that sinister smile. “You sure you don’t need any help? I’ve heard a few things about bloke stuff myself. I can take care of it for you.”

“Thanks, Gin, but really we’re all right. Right, men?” They all nodded enthusiastically. “See? All taken care of.”

Ginny lowered her wand with a pout.

“You ruin all the fun, Harry.”

Harry chuckled and pulled Ginny in for a hug.

“Sorry, Gin. Next time I’ll let you have your fun. For now, though, you’ll just have to be content to leave them be. Just think of it as…saving the fun for later, yeah?”

“Okay.” Ginny smiled.

“Oi! Potter! What exactly do you plan on doing with my sister that’s going to involve having this conversation again?”

In response, Harry wrapped his arm around Ginny’s waist, pulling her close to his side, and walked back to the Burrow, leaving a gaggle of astonished redheads behind.

************************************ *****

It turned out that Percy had come to the Burrow that day, not only to interrogate Harry, but also to deliver a message from the Minister. Kingsley had said he wanted to be there himself, but was called to pressing business in Italy and, unfortunately, couldn’t be present. Percy delivered the Minister’s sentiments to the family, and then handed a sealed envelope to Mr. Weasley. He slid his wand under the seal, and unfolded the letter. At first glance, it appeared blank, by Arthur gave it a tap with his wand and muttered under his breath. Words began to appear on the page.

Dear Friends,  
I’m sorry to have taken so long to process your request, but the foreign government has proven more difficult to deal with than I originally anticipated. Also, it seems that the names you had me search for were more common than anyone could have known. However, after several weeks of thumbing through Muggle records on some sort of elaborate muggle filing system which is apparently all stored “on a line” within a “computator”, whatever that means, they found the ones you were looking for. I have given the address to the one who gave you this letter. He does not know he has it, but if you ask him the question “Where can we find that which was hidden?” he will state the place where they can be found. It’s a handy little charm I learned as an Auror. If you don’t get it all written down or memorized the first time, you may ask him twice more before he forgets, so be careful. I recommend getting the information you need, then asking the remaining times to ensure no one else should be able to access this information. I have been made aware that several Death Eaters have been running about causing general disruptions of the peace, so I have made this letter intentionally oblique, in case they should run across it before you do.  
Well, I’m incredibly busy so I’ll end here. I hope to see you again soon.  
Yours,  
The King

“The King? He’s not being very oblique with that one, is he? That seems fairly obvious. They’d know right away that Kingsley sent it,” Ron said.

“Well there was the invisibility charm. That one is unique to the two of us. We used it on our Order missions,” Arthur said as his eyes flashed over the letter, again.

“Indeed, but I suppose anyone who intercepted this letter would have known who sent it, anyway. It was I, assistant to the Minister of Magic, who was carrying the letter, after all,” Percy said, with a distinct air of pompousness.

“Oh, shove it, Big Head Boy. You’re not even in the same office as the Minister anymore,” Ginny said.

“Only because I’ve been promoted to my own, larger office!” Percy rebutted.

Arthur saw the rising tension, and turned to Percy as he said “Where can we find that which was hidden?”

Immediately Percy snapped to attention. His eyes turned glassy and he spoke in a deep voice very unlike his own. It reminded Harry of the strange way Professor Trelawny spoke when she was giving a prophecy.

“3 Oldman Court, Wendouree, Victoria”

Mr. Weasley mumbled the address under his breath as he searched the room for a piece of scrap parchment. Ginny reached across the table, flipped over Kingsley’s letter, and scribbled the address using a quill she snatched off the kitchen counter. She checked her paper, and asked Percy again.

“Have you got it, Ginny?”

“Yeah, Dad. 3 Oldman Court, Wendouree, Victoria.”

“I’d best ask him again, then, to finish it off.”

Arthur asked Percy once again, and Ginny checked her paper, to be sure she was correct. Then, it was silent.

Unsurprisingly, it was Ron who spoke first.

“Well. I guess that’s that, then. We’ve got all the preparations made. Hermione wants us to travel like Muggles, so she got us some tickets for those air thingies ages ago. She says they’re “open sided” or something–“

“Open ended, Ron. It means we can go whenever we want. And they’re called airplanes,” Hermione interjected quietly.

“Right, that. So I guess all we’ve got to do is pack and we’ll be ready to go this afternoon.”

Molly gasped and spoke with so much urgency that her words and sentences all ran together. “This afternoon! So soon? But you can’t possibly have it all in order yet. What about money and food. And I just don’t trust those muggle airyplane things. Portkeys would be so much faster and safer, dears. And you’re still so young! You can’t go travelling about the world on your own. Something could happen to you! I never thought you’d be going alone. Can’t your father or I come with you?”

“Mum, we’ve got it all taken care of. Hermione got some Galleons changed at Gringotts ages ago and she went and took some money out of her parent’s muggle bank, as well. She knows how to use the money, too, Mum. She is Muggleborn, after all. And they’ll feed us while we’re, er, flying, I suppose. That’s what Hermione says, anyway. She’s done this all before. We’re of age. We can do it. All we need to do is get the last of our clothes together. We’ve both had a suitcase standing by for weeks now.”

Hermione had been standing next to Ron, quietly, appearing as if she was utterly overwhelmed by the whole situation. It’s quite possible that she was, in fact. Finally, in a small voice, she spoke.

“Mrs. Weasley, my parents are there. I know, at first I didn’t want to go get them, but now that we’ve found them, well, I just can’t imagine living without them. I’ve had a wonderful time here, but, it’s my Mum and Dad, you know? I…I’ve missed them. And I’m completely terrified of what they’ll say when they see me, but I know that I’ve got to do this. And I’m ready. I’d go alone and spare you-all the trouble, but Ron wouldn’t hear of it. And, well, we’ve travelled on our own before, you know. This time it’s easier because we know where we’re going and we have real food and money and a place to stay. And airplanes are perfectly safe, Mrs. Weasley. They’re quite fun, really, especially the first time. We’ll be careful, I promise. But I have to do this, and I need to do it as soon as possible. So, we’ll be leaving this afternoon, as soon as we get the last few things packed. I don’t know how long it will take to convince them I am who I say I am. It’s a tricky memory charm I did on them, and it can’t just be undone. Even once I release it, I’ll have to pull the memories back up. They’ll go on thinking they’re Wendell and Monica until I can convince them that they aren’t. And once I do get the memories back, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. I haven’t exactly been honest with them about what’s happened recently. I don’t know that they’ve ever been fully aware of what happens at Hogwarts, actually. I haven’t told them about any of our ‘adventures’. It could take a while to get them home, but we’ll let you know when we’re on our way back. I’m so thankful for your care, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but I’m ready to fetch my parents. While we’re gone, though, maybe you could try and finish up Grimmauld Place, or something. We’re nearly done, but there’s still a lot of decorating to do. It needs a woman’s touch, and I’m worried these boys will paint the whole place royal blue and buy awful, heavy, black, mismatched furniture. Would you help them, please? If it can’t be finished by the time we get back, maybe they can stay in Charlie’s room for a while, or something. Can you get it all arranged for me? I really need your help wth this.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at Hermione for a moment before capturing her in a bone-crushing hug. Both women had tears shining in their eyes.

“Hermione, dear, you know your parents can stay as long as they’d like. We’d be happy to have them. But I’ll do my best to get Grimmauld Place ready to go before you get back, so they can settle right in. And you two be safe. I’m still not happy about all this, and I wish you’d take an adult with you, but you’re right, this needs to be done now. And I’d rather have you and Ron go together than risk you running off alone. Be safe, dears. Won’t you?”

Hermione smiled a timid smile and nodded.

“I promise I’ll take good care of him, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oi! I’m the one supposed to be taking care of you!” Ron put a protective arm around Hermione’s waist.

Mrs. Weasley ignored Ron, and looked Hermione straight in the eyes. She seemed to find whatever she was looking for there, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears once again.

“That’s good, dear. He needs looking after, you know.”

“I know, Mrs. Weasley.”

Ron’s indignant protests drew the attention away from the heavy glances that the two women shared, and disguised Hermione’s step closer and Mrs. Weasley’s step back. Whatever had passed between the two, it seemed that ownership of Ron had passed from the older woman to the younger. The only one to notice these tiny shifts was Ginny, as everyone else was trying to calm Ron down before he said something to make Hermione angry, which he was dangerously close to doing. The last thing Hermione wanted to hear was that she needed Ron to protect her.

Luckily, Hermoine didn’t seem to notice, or had chosen to ignore, for once, Ron’s ramblings, and the moment passed without incident. Hermione cut Ron off mid-sentence, by tugging his arm, and pulling him up the stairs with instructions to finish packing as quickly as possible.

Nearly an hour later, Hermione and Ron had their bags sitting by the door. Ron had long ago plopped down into a kitchen chair, resigned to Hermione’s frantic luggage inspection. She’d checked his bags and discovered a great many things he’d forgotten, and was now loading them in, and meticulously checking that all their things wouldn’t shift and spill on the plane. She’d swapped her magical beaded bag for a larger, perfectly un-magical shoulder bag, in which she’d placed some books, a pack of Muggle chewing gum, a tiny pillow, and a small blanket. She’d handed Ron a small backpack, similarly loaded, though he had no idea what he’d be doing with those books. He suspected they were simply more for Hermione. She had books of every genre, including magical, but she’d spelled them all so only she and Ron could see what was written on the pages. She also had one notebook and a couple pens, which she’d also spelled only to be seen by the two of them. “So we can talk without being overheard,” she’d told Ron.

For his part, Ron didn’t understand why they had to have all this Muggle stuff. Hermione had insisted he pack his wand in his backpack, in a compartment she’d charmed to be invisible on all spectrums, using a handy spell she’d discovered while they were on the run last year. Only Ron and Hermione knew it was there, and Ron was under strict instructions not to touch it until she said he could. Based on the measures she’d taken to appear completely muggle, he expected that wouldn’t be until well after they’d landed in Australia and found a safe place to stay. She had, however, managed to procure him an actual Muggle passport, which she’d told him he’d need when he got there. Wizards and Witches didn’t deal with Muggle passports, so Ron had never needed one before. He was anxious to get going, but nervous about all this unfamiliar Muggle stuff he’d have to navigate. At least Hermione knew what she was doing. He’d just stay quiet and stick close to her.

Finally, Hermione zipped Ron’s suitcase and declared that they were ready to go. They said goodbye to the Weasleys and Harry, lingering especially long with a sobbing, but supportive, Mrs. Weasley. Finally, they grabbed their bags, turned on the spot, and with two quiet pops, they were gone.


	8. Chapter 8

Things had been going rather slowly at Grimmauld Place, but as soon as Hermione and Ron apparated to the airport, the pace picked up considerably. Ginny had turned the shop over to Angelina’s care and was working full-time at the house, now. Harry, Percy, and Arthur had been working non-stop building furniture and finishing the last of the repairs.

The house had been wired for electricity before the Blacks moved in, but they’d disconnected the master wiring and removed all the switches and plugs. Bill, along with Charlie, who’d come in from Romania the day after Ron and Hermione left, had been working hard to rewire the place and make it “Muggle ready”, as they liked to say.

Ginny and Molly had been sewing curtains, bedspreads, pillows, cushions, rugs, and anything else that could be sewn. They stained furniture as the boys finished it up. They bought dishes and mattresses and all the other things a house needed with the money Hermione had left them. As each day came to a close, the house looked more-and-more like a home.

About the fourth or fifth day after Hermione and Ron left, George came to the house, and started helping Bill and Charlie with the wiring. As it turned out, Fred and George’s penchant for big booms had found them experimenting with electricity, and he knew more about it than Charlie, who was then reassigned to the furniture-making crew.

Charlie and Percy excelled at creating fine furniture with intricate details and fine craftsmanship. Charlie used fire spells to burnish wooden coffee tables, and add a rustic feel to some of the den and kitchen furniture. Percy used his attention to detail to create embellished pieces for the bedrooms, sitting room, and dining room. Harry and Arthur spent most of their time patching up the floors, ceilings, and walls, painting and applying wallpaper, and assembling the basics of the furniture. Arthur was an excellent woodworker, but his skills lie in creating sturdy pieces, not fancy ones. He would create the structural elements, and the older boys would add the decorative ones.

When they finally got all the floors, walls, and ceilings fixed, Harry moved to working with the appliances. He and Ginny took his allotted appliance money out to a Muggle store and bought new electric and gas items to replace the magical ones. They also bought some things that Ginny had never seen before, like a microwave, toaster, and blender, as well as a dishwasher, which Ginny practically salivated over. Harry spent the next couple days installing the new appliances and making sure it was all working properly.

He was also given the task of checking all the plumbing to make sure it was all sealed up and working well. He got a nasty surprise when he turned on the faucet in the kitchen and the water ran a thick, creamy brown, but he and Bill fixed it pretty quickly, though they did have to go back to the Burrow and change afterwards. It seemed Bill had forgotten the old adage “Lefty loosy, righty tighty” and had loosened what he thought he was tightening and covered them both, as well as most of the kitchen floor, in the nasty brown water. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up their mess, and laughing at Bill’s mistake.

With the repairs taking up most of Harry’s time, he and Ginny didn’t get to see each other as much as they hoped. They did try to do as many tasks together as they could, but with their vastly different assignments, they crossed paths rarely. At night, they would spend an hour or two together, but only if they weren’t busy making dinner or working around the Burrow, and if they had enough energy to stay awake that long. Still, their relationship began to grow stronger, again, and their happiness was showing.

Bill had noticed it first on the day he and the other brothers caught Harry sleeping with Ginny by the couch. He’d been content, utterly content, without a care in the world. At least, that’s how his face looked. Bill hadn’t spent as much time with Harry as the rest of his family had, with the exception of Charlie, but he’d heard so much about him from his parents that he felt he had a fairly accurate read on him, already.

His mum had loved Harry like a son for years now, whether Harry truly understood that or not. Ginny had gushed over Harry since she was a child, but now, well…things were different now. She wasn’t nearly as gushy, but she was so much more radiant. And Harry was, too. They were both shadowed by the tragedies and troubles they’d faced at such a young age, but when they were together it was as if there could be no darkness in the world. And they seemed connected to each other in a way that most couples never dreamed about.

Bill wasn’t even sure Harry understood yet what was really happening. He was certain that Harry meant what he said, that he’d love to wake up to Ginny for the rest of his life. But he was also nearly certain that the boy hadn’t yet figured out exactly what that meant. That Harry loved Ginny, well, he had no doubts about that. Whether or not Harry yet knew he loved Ginny was a different matter altogether.

If there was no Voldemort, no Chamber of Secrets, no “Boy Who Lived”, no “Chosen One” Bill might have said they were too young to be in love. But that wasn’t the case. Ginny had started growing up when she was only 11, and Bill wasn’t sure that Harry had ever had a childhood at all, if what little he’d been told was true. 17 year-old Harry Potter and 16 year-old Ginny Weasley were nearly as mature as any adult he’d ever met, and possibly more mature than some.

They were still kids on the outside, and sometimes their naivety showed, but they understood the important things about life, even if they didn’t quite know how to express those things, yet. As far as Bill was concerned, they had every right to be in love.

That didn’t mean that he was willing to give over his sister to just any bloke, and having a name like Harry Potter didn’t exempt you from brotherly scrutiny. Harry had hurt her before, and Bill wouldn’t stand for such a thing, again. So far, though, Harry had been a complete gentleman. He didn’t know what they got up to behind closed doors, but then again, he didn’t really want to. No matter how grown up his baby sister got, she would still always be his baby sister.

He knew she’d eventually get married, likely to that dark haired wizard hanging photos in the drawing room (and likely not nearly as far into the future as he would have liked), and he knew she’d engage in, well, you know, marital acts, but that didn’t mean he had to think about it, for Merlin’s sake. If he did, he’d likely curse that blasted Potter just for maybe, possibly, sometime in the future, considering sleeping with his baby sister. And that just wouldn’t be a very brotherly thing to do. Not to mention he’d likely have to suffer Ginny’s bat bogies, a fate he’d avoided thus far only because he was her favorite brother. Being the favorite wasn’t likely to help him in such a situation.

Bill returned to the task at hand, which was, today, screwing all the faceplates onto the light switchers and the pluggy thingies. He was doing it the Muggle way, as it gave him more time to think. Ginny was in the den sewing the last of the curtains with his mum, and Harry was hanging photos in the drawing room, trying to bring a little more life into the place. It was amazing how fast the house had come together once they got past all the structural stuff.

They’d finished the electricity, and Harry had run around the house turning on lights and fans and the telly, as well as something he called air-conditioning, and programming everything to display the proper time. When he was satisfied that everything was still working a few hours later, and with the house mysteriously and wonderfully cooler, he pronounced the electrical work finished.

The house had been completely repainted, the floors had been stained, and carpet had been installed in the den, library, and a couple of the bedrooms. They’d laid rugs, tacked down a runner on the stairs, and pronounced it ready for furniture. They spent the next several days moving things in and arranging it just so.

Harry and Ginny were the ones who knew Hermione best, so they were mostly in charge of placing things where they thought she, and thus her family, would want them. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had been finishing up the fabric work, and slowly the beds and windows were looking more complete. They’d worked hard for weeks, but today was their last day.

Charlie was finishing with the library, shelving the last of the books and developing some sort of organizational system by which the Grangers could easily locate anything they needed. Percy was carrying in the flowers and plants and arranging them in the rooms to add life and color. Harry and George were hanging pictures and mirrors in all the rooms.

Bill had started the day polishing furniture while his dad did the last of the electrical work, but they’d had to switch after Mr. Weasley nearly electrocuted himself screwing in a light bulb. Harry reminded them that they weren’t to put their fingers in anything without turning the switch off first, and since Bill had taken over, there had been no more electrical accidents.

Bill heard two sets of footsteps descending the stairs and turned to find Harry and George coming down.

“Done for the day, boys?”

“Yeah, just finished the last of it. We’ve stored the pictures we didn’t use in the attic, in case the Grangers don’t like the ones we picked.”

“Care to give me a hand with these covers? I’ve still got the den and two bedrooms to do.”

“I’d love to help,” George said, “but I got a strange owl from Angelina this morning asking me to come to Diagon Alley today. I told her I’d meet her at the Leaky as soon as I was done, here. I think I should go.”

“No problem, George. Harry and I can handle it, right Harry?”

“Absolutely.”

“Go have fun, little brother. Just er…not too much fun, if you catch my drift.”

“Thanks, Bill, but I don’t think you have to worry about it. Angelina…she always liked him better than me. Anyway. I’ll see you at home later, then.”

With a sad smile and a pop, he apparated away.

“Bugger. Should’ve just kept my mouth shut. Alright, Harry. Grab a screwdriver.”

Harry picked up a handful of faceplates and a battered yellow screwdriver, and made his way into the bedroom. Between him and Bill, they were finished in a matter of minutes. Ginny and Molly had emerged from the den with a stack of cloth, and begun hanging the last of the curtains.

Percy, Charlie, and Arthur all finished at nearly the same time, and apparated back to the Burrow together. Bill and Harry waited in the kitchen for Ginny and Molly to finish with the curtains. Rather than apparating out from the inside, they exited the front door. Bill and Molly disappeared immediately, but Harry and Ginny lingered.

He punched on the fancy keypad near the door (which he later explained was a newfangled home alarm system, but augmented with a little extra magic) and a quick beep sounded throughout the house. They quickly exited, closed the door behind them, and locked it. Harry straightened the welcome mat on the front porch, grabbed Ginny’s arm, and apparated away.

*******************************************

The Burrow was a joyous place that evening. Their long work on the house had finally come to an end. Molly made a fantastic dinner to celebrate. Fleur had joined them, and Charlie was eating his last dinner before he'd have to return to Romania. They laughed and talked all through the meal. It was almost as it was before the world had turned upside down. They didn’t even notice, at first, that George wasn’t there.

That is, they didn’t notice until he stumbled in at nearly one in the morning. Fleur, Bill, and Percy had all gone home for the night, and Charlie, Arthur, and Molly were asleep in their rooms upstairs. Harry and Ginny were enjoying the summer night together on the porch when they were startled by a banging sound in the kitchen, and the distinct sound of a male and female voice.

Their first thought was that it was Ron and Hermione, and they raced to see what news they brought and how they had returned so soon. The sight that met them, however, was quite different.

A flustered Angelina was supporting a seriously soused George, who was trying with all his might to get away from her. So far, they’d managed to knock over two dinner chairs, a crockery set, and a whole mug full of forks. Harry rushed to grab the unsteady Weasley while Ginny sat about righting the kitchen. Angelina sank into a chair, buried her head in her hands, and immediately started crying.

The raucous noise was more than enough to wake the remainder of the house, and rapid footsteps could be heard above as the three sleeping Weasleys thundered down the stairs. Ginny set the mug of forks back on the counter, along with the broken set of dishes, and turned to the distraught Angelina just as the rest of the family was descending the last set of stairs.

“Angelina, what happened?” Ginny asked, placing a soothing hand on the older woman’s back.

“What happened?! I’ll bloody tell you what ‘appened,” George roared, “She tried…she tried t’ take me back t’ the bloody ssssss-shop. I told her, Fred innut there, I don’ wan’ it now. I don’t wanna go back. But sssssssss-she m-made me. SSS-said I’d wan’ t’ sssss…t’ sss-see it. But issss all wrong withou’ Fred,” George slurred.

Ginny ignored him and turned back to Angelina.

“Ginny. All that work we did. He doesn’t even want it. Went about trying to tear the place apart until I made him stop. I thought he was ready. You said he’d been better, lately. I just…oh I wanted him to see it. We thought he’d love it, you know? We were wrong, so wrong. He ran off. Took me hours before I found him in a bar on Knockturn Alley drunk under the table. I’m sorry, Ginny, all of you. I’m so sorry. I tried to take care of him, but I just can’t.” She buried her head in her arms again, and her back shook with silent sobs.

“You’re wrong, you were right! Er…wrong! Bo’ of you! I can’t do it w’out Fred. Isss not the ssss-same. I don’ wan’ it fixed up. Jussss let it rot, like Fred. Fred can’ come back so the ssss-store can’ either! Jusss let it rot!” George’s speech was noticeably slurred from the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. He was trying to stand and shout, but Harry had to keep reaching out and catching him.

Charlie and Arthur walked around the table and grabbed George by the arms and around the back. Arthur cast a significant look at Molly, and with a sad, but determined look, she cast a silent spell at him. He instantly went limp and his eyes dropped shut. Angelina looked up at him, before turning back to the table and sobbing even harder.

The men hauled George upstairs to his room while the women took a seat at the table with Angelina. She raised her head and looked at them with a deep sense of anguish.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your evening and likely George will never speak to me again. I didn’t think he’d take it that hard. I was so stupid. He didn’t even want to go in. I made him. I forced him to go inside his own shop. That’s awful, isn’t it?” The women looked at her with pity and shook their heads, but she had her eyes down on the table. “We should’ve just burnt the place down. Burned it with green and purple flames. Fred’s gone and George will never go back in there without him.” She tried to lean into her arms again, but Mrs. Weasley caught her and looked her in the eyes.

“This is not your fault, dear. George is hurting, but he’s forgetting that the rest of us are, too. Even you, dear. We’ve let him have his pain because none of us has been strong enough to face his and our own, but he’s sulked long enough. If there’s one thing I know it’s that Fred would never have wanted his shop burned, even if the flames were green and purple. He wouldn’t want it to sit there and rot, either. Fred…he was all about celebrating life, even to the very end. That’s what that shop is about, and we’re not going to let death take that away. We’ll let George sleep for now, but in the morning he’s in for a rude awakening.”

Molly spoke with tears on her face, but a hard determination that Angelina had never seen, but Ginny was intimately familiar with. It was that look she wore when she sent Bellatrix Lestrange hurtling into death. Nothing hurt her children. Nothing. Not even their own pain. She didn’t know what her Mum had planned, but Ginny knew that it would indeed be what she said it would be, a rude awakening.


	9. Chapter 9

George awoke while it was still dark. It took him a few moments to figure out where he was, because he didn’t remember coming back here. In fact, he didn’t remember much at all about last night. Angelina was there. And he had a vague sense of bright colors, purple, green.

The shop. He was at the shop. And he’d gone mad and stormed out. He must have gotten raging drunk after that because he honestly didn’t remember a second more. Though with the revelation of his drunkenness, he felt the beginnings of what was sure to be a fantastic headache. He groaned and rolled over. If it was still dark, he’d better get more sleep. He knew the headache would only get worse if he got up now.

He hadn’t managed to quite get rolled over before he heard a small rustle of clothing and a near-silent flick of a wand. Blazing white light hit him from every angle and he threw his hands over his eyes. Whatever this horrible intruder had done with his wand, however, made it impossible for him to block out the light. He groaned louder, and tried to bury his head in his pillows. He was right about that headache.

“Good morning, George. Glad you’re awake.”

“Mum?” he croaked. If his mother was blinding him after knowing he had a hangover, he was sure to be in real trouble.

“Yes, dear. You had quite the entrance last night.”

“Srry, Mum. Didn’ mean to. C’n you put ‘at out?”

The light didn’t dim at all as his mum got up and sat heavily on his bed, jostling his whole body.

“Ah! Mum! Stop!”

“Well, dear, if you hadn’t come in so rudely last night perhaps I could be more kind. But you’ve got some serious explaining to do before I let you off the hook. I don’t know what you were thinking treating that girl like that. You just wait until I get your father in here. Wait here, love. I’ll be right back.”

George knew from experience that it was far better to deal with father than his mother, so he was sort of relieved when her bright light receded from the room. His dad wasn’t likely to do much, no matter what he’d done. Of course, if it was as bad as his mum made it out to be (which it never was), he may actually have some hell to pay. Hearing his parents’ bedroom door open again, he was preparing his face into something slightly resembling repentance when he received the second biggest shock of his life.

“GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY HOW DARE YOU COME INTO THIS HOUSE LIKE THAT?! I’VE NEVER SEEN ANYONE TREAT THEIR FAMILY WITH SUCH DISDAIN AND HATRED AS YOU DID LAST NIGHT. EXPLAIN YOURSELF, SON!”

Arthur’s wand wasn’t blazing, but his voice was making George’s head spin. Never had he seen or heard his father explode like that. He was beginning to wonder if he’d be better off in Azkaban. At least they’d let him sleep off his hangover in peace.

“Dad, I dunno what I did. I was totally sloshed. Whatever it was, I’m sorry. Okay?”

He braced himself for another explosion, but was surprised when he instead felt his father gently lower himself onto the edge of George’s bed.

“Well, I’ve woken you up, at least,” Arthur muttered quietly, “Son, do you remember what happened last night?”

“Does this have to do with the shop? I know I went mad, but I honestly don’t want to be there, anymore. I’ll sell it, or you can burn it for all I care.”

“Well, we’ll talk about selling it, later, but burning it? I know you’re okay with it, but what about Fred? What does he want?”

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW WHAT FRED WANTS!? HE’S BLOODY DEAD! DOESN’T ANYBODY UNDERSTAND THAT?”

George sat straight up in his bed, only to lay immediately back down again, when the sudden change in direction nearly caused him to lose whatever dinner he’d eaten before the shop debacle. Sobs wracked his body.

“I can’t do it without him,” he whispered.

Arthur enveloped George in a powerful hug, and Molly, who’d come racing at the sound of his shouting, sat on the other side of his bed and put her arms around him, too.

“We’re all struggling, dear,” she said. “We know you miss him most, but by refusing to move on, you keep us from moving on, either. Angelina and Ginny worked so hard to fix that up for you. Ginny would come home some days while the men were at the house and you were up here sulking. She’d lock herself in my room and we’d cast a silencer and cry about him together. We all miss him, Georgie. Not as much as you, but we all miss him.”

Arthur picked up where his teary-eyed wife left off.

“We have to move on though, son. We can’t just sit around letting his death rule our lives. He’s dead, but he’s not gone. He’s in the shop, he’s in this house, he’s in Hogwarts, he’s everywhere. And George, most of all, he’s in you. Not because you look alike or you were born on the same day, but because you and he were two parts of the same person. When he moved on, he left you here with us to make sure we all laugh and remember to have fun. He wanted the two of you to bring more laughter to the world, and even though he isn’t here to help you, we are.”

“I just wanted to have a place where we could remember all the happy things he did for us, George.” Ginny’s quiet voice made them all jump in surprise, and they looked toward the door. “That’s all Angelina wanted, too. We want the shop opened again, and we want it to make people smile again. When Angelina and I were fixing the signs and the windows, people were asking when it was going to reopen. They were so excited, George. Don’t you see? That’s Fred’s legacy. Selling it or burning it would be like killing him again. You can’t let that last piece of him die, George. You have to open it up, again. You have to bring Fred back.”

“Opening the store won’t bring him back, Gin. He’s gone. I don’t even really know how to do the shop without him. I don’t know what to say when he’s not there to fill in the blanks. I don’t know what will happen.”

Ginny walked over and gripped George’s hand.

“Nobody knows what will happen, George. That’s what makes it so interesting. I can tell you what’s going to happen next, though. Angelina and I, with the help of the family, are opening the shop. Today. You’re welcome to join us if you like, or visit, or stay home and cry. But we’re tired of darkness and sadness, and we can’t help but thinking Fred is, too.”

George offered up the smallest smile.

“You’re probably right. But I still don’t think I’m ready, yet.”

“Then just stop by for a few minutes. See how things are going. See what its like to have the shop come to life again. And when you’re ready we’ll hand it back over to you. Now, if you don’t mind. I’m going to get some more shut eye. I have a shop to open. Goodnight, George. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Gin.”

She kissed him on the cheek, and was gone. He turned to his mum and dad, to see their faces shining with silent tears.

“There’s not a word we can say that she hasn’t already said. We love you, George. We just want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Now get back to bed. If you come down in the morning I’ll make you some breakfast. How’s that, dear?”

“Sounds good, Mum.”

She smiled and leaned down for one last hug, pressing a small potion bottle into his hand as she did. His father patted his arm and shut the door with a quiet click as George laid back on his pillows. He pulled the stopper out of the bottle, downed the familiar cool Dreamless Sleep potion in one gulp, and was asleep in an instant.

**********

Ron and Hermione dropped their suitcases onto the floor of their hotel room with a sigh. Hermione let the door fall shut behind her as Ron flopped unceremoniously onto the bed with a groan of satisfaction.

It had been exactly forty-three hours since they’d left the Burrow and the comfort of warm, soft, beds. Since that time, they’d flown on three separate airplanes, taken a two-hour taxi ride, and dashed through, then waited at, three terminals. They nearly got detained in customs when they arrived, but Hermione just managed to talk them out of Ron’s little slip-of-the-tongue, and they had made it to Wendouree, at last. Of course, then they had to find a suitable hotel that fit into their very tight budget. Hermione had spent well over half of their trip money on the open-ended tickets, which didn’t come cheap, and, though they were used to living in rather rough conditions, she had hoped to find something a bit more amenable than their old tent. She’d finally settled on a nice, comfortable hotel near a few restaurants and within walking distance of a public bus stop. It was a bit more expensive than she’d hoped, but it was one of the only ones she’d found that would let her stay as long as she wanted and pay as she went. So, the Hotel Grand was their home for now.

Tired though she was, Hermione knew the best way to combat jet lag was to get into the new schedule immediately. Luckily for them, the time difference meant that they’d arrived just in time to go to bed. Hermione dragged her suitcase over next to the dresser and quickly began stowing her things away.

Ron groaned from his place on the bed and spoke into the covers.

“Ugh. Mione. Can’t you see a bloke’s trying to sleep over here? We’ll do it in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“Hush, Ron. It’ll only take me a minute. Besides, you can’t sleep like that. You’re only half on the bed. Why don’t you get up and put away your things, so we can get started bright and early tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of work to do, and I don’t want to be wasting any time.”

She reached over and prodded Ron on the back. With a low moan and a muffled protest, he finally rolled over and sat up. Satisfied, Hermione turned back to her suitcase. Ron’s eyes surveyed the room as he took in his surroundings for the first time. It was a relatively spacious room, with a bathroom, a large dresser with a funny looking black box on top, a desk and chair, several lamps, and the large, comfortable bed that he was currently sitting on. Ron’s eyes widened as he looked around the room again, and a small blush began to spread up the back of his neck.

“Hermione?”

“Hm?”

“Did you know this room only has one bed?”

Hermione stilled, and Ron could see her cheeks redden, even as her head was bent over her suitcase.

“Well, you know,” she began shyly, “it was much cheaper than the one with two beds, and we’re running low on money already, so I thought we’d just make the best of it. If it bothers you I can sleep on the floor. I have plenty of extra blankets and pillows.”

“Don’t be thick, Hermione. If anyone is sleeping on the floor, it’s me, but I’d much prefer sleeping in this nice, cozy, warm bed with you.” Ron shot her a cheeky smile from his seat on the bed. “I just wish I’d known you were so open to sharing a bed with me. You’ve given me loads of new ideas, Granger.”

Hermione threw a rolled-up pair of socks at him, which his Keeper’s hands blocked without thought. He caught her playful smile as she turned back to her suitcase.

“Oh, sod off, Weasley. Don’t be getting any ideas. It’s hardly the first time we’ve shared a bed, and I expect you to be quite the gentleman.” Her voice took a more serious tone, “You know we’re not ready for that, yet, anyway.”

He knew exactly what "that" was, and he knew exactly how Hermione felt about it. She was driving him absolutely insane, but somehow he knew that she was right. Snogging was wonderful, and sometimes he really wanted to do "that," but he knew Hermione was a lot more fragile than she looked, and he didn’t want to mess this up by moving too fast. He and Hermione had been friends for years, but this relationship, it was something altogether different. It made them both so happy, but he knew that if he didn’t handle it right, it would come crashing down, and Hermione would be gone. He’d been pretty thick up until recently, and he’d done a lot of things in the past that he wasn’t exactly proud of. That whole debacle with Lavender was probably the thing he regretted most, and he was trying to make up for it by doing everything in his power to make Hermione feel like the most precious woman in the world. He wasn’t exactly sure where their relationship would end up, but he didn’t like to think what his life would be like without her. He’d do everything in his power to keep her around as long as he could. If doing so meant he had to wait for "that," then he’d wait.

Hermione lifted her eyes to meet Ron’s, and found them brimming with compassion, gentleness, dedication, and something she thought might have been love. There was want there, too, and the burn in her body betrayed her, but she could see that he would be honorable, that he’d keep the promise he’d made her early in the summer, the promise that he would wait as long as she needed.

Ron saw in her eyes the uncertainty and fear, the nervousness, but under all that, the trust that he would never hurt her, and something else, something deeper that spoke to the very darkest corners of his heart. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, before he turned his grin into a pout, and tossed the rolled-up socks back at her.

“Why do you have to ruin all the fun?”

She laughed, and finished stowing the last of her things, before sitting down next to him on the bed. Hermione looked up at him with a sly smile, and that fiery twinkle in her eyes that only he ever saw, the one that made his stomach flip. She slid her hand up his arm, and leaned her head close to his to whisper in his ear.

“I wouldn’t say I ruin all the fun. That would be horribly unfair, don’t you think?”

Her hand fisted in his hair as she pulled him in for a blazing kiss. Ron’s arms held her tightly as they fell backwards onto the bed, each hungrily seeking the other. It was a while before either of them came up for air, but it didn’t take long after that for exhaustion to overcome them. They drifted to sleep in each others’ arms with rumpled clothes and swollen lips. Tomorrow would bring a thousand uncertainties, but for tonight, they were at peace.


	10. Chapter 10

Ginny hadn’t had a moment alone with Harry in at least a week, and she was anything but happy about it. Working at George’s shop was taking up a lot of her time, and by the time she made it back to the Burrow, she was too exhausted to do anything but drag herself upstairs and sleep. Some days she didn’t even eat dinner because she just couldn’t stay awake long enough. But not spending time with Harry was starting to affect her sleep, again, too. The past two nights she’d been startled awake, tingling with electricity and had been unable to get back to sleep. After she’d managed to knock over two whole displays as a result of her extreme exhaustion, Angelina had sent her home with the promise that she’d call Katie for help and close up early tonight. Ginny tried not to show how glad she was to have a day off.

Things had been going well at the store, and George had stopped by for the first time yesterday. He’d only stayed for a couple minutes, but already Ginny had noticed a change in him. The day they opened, there was a long line of wizards and witches waiting to get inside. They’d been just as busy every day this week. Seeing the shop full of excited people was exactly what George had needed. He was supposed to stop by again early next week, and she hoped he’d stay a little longer then.

Ginny had learned a few very important things in the brief time she’d been working at the shop. Firstly, she was rubbish at the till. It wasn’t that she couldn’t manage the money, she just always forgot which buttons to push and ended up having to redo the whole transaction. Secondly, she was really great at customer service. It was something about the way she phrased her sales pitches. She could get almost anyone to buy almost anything. She and Angelina had agreed to let Ginny do the selling and let Angelina run the till. They had a fairly well-oiled machine, already, but the long hours were definitely taking a toll on her.

Ginny tumbled out of the fireplace at the Burrow and landed flat on her back. She groaned as she rolled over and started to push herself up.

“Harry, dear, is that you? I thought I heard the floo.” She heard her mum calling from the kitchen and heard her steps approaching the living room. Molly pushed open the door to see Ginny picking herself up off the carpet. “Oh! Ginny! I hadn’t expected you home so early. Is everything all right? Nothing’s happened, has it?”

Ginny yawned, “No, Mum, everything’s fine. I’m just exhausted. Angelina sent me home after I knocked over a whole case of Decoy Detonators. It’ll take hours to get that sorted, so she’s calling in Katie for help, then closing up early. Why were you calling for Harry? Has he gone somewhere?”

“He’s gone to speak with the Minister about something, but he wouldn’t say exactly what. Kingsley called this morning in response to an owl Harry had sent and gave him access to his personal fire in his office. Harry didn’t want to be seen in public just yet, but he needed to see the minister, apparently. I’m not fully sure what’s going on, but I was expecting him home soon. I’m sure he’s in good care, seeing as he’s with the minister himself, but I don’t like sending any of you out on your own, not with all the Death Eaters still mucking about. It’s bad enough you gallivanting off to the shop everyday, but it can’t be helped.”

Ginny closed her eyes to focus on the warmth in her core. She and Harry were miles away, but she could feel his life burning as strong as ever, and she got a faint sense of excitement that definitely didn’t belong to her. She also got a sense of longing for home, but she couldn’t tell who that feeling came from. It could be her as much as Harry. Blearily she opened her eyes and met her mum’s concerned gaze. Ginny yawned again.

“He’s fine, mum. He’s probably just enjoying seeing an old friend. And you know how chatty Kingsley can be when he’s not in a public setting. I think he'll be home soon, anyway. I can tell. Anyway, I’m going to bed, now. Wake me up for dinner, please.”

With that, Ginny climbed the steps to her room, leaving a very confused, but thoughtful, Molly Weasley behind. Molly was fairly certain Ginny didn’t know this, but when she’d closed her eyes, she’d seemed to sink into herself and away. It was almost trance-like. And then she’d come back with the strange knowledge that Harry would be returning soon. Had her daughter known what Harry was thinking?

Mind reading, even across distances, wasn’t unheard of, but it was extremely rare. The last time she’d heard of something like this was when she was visiting her Aunt Muriel as a child. Muriel had always enjoyed telling Druidic stories, especially soul bonding stories. In those legends, witches and wizards who were bound to each other by life, blood, or vow would sometimes develop the ability to sense the connection. Once they became aware of it, the bond would grow between them until they could sense each other, even at some distance. Molly had never heard of it in someone as young as Ginny, however, and she knew of no vow, blood bond, or life bond that connected Harry to Ginny. They were affectionate, yes, possibly even in love, but they weren’t bound in the traditional Druidic sense of the word, so far as she knew. Perhaps Ginny’s closed eyes had merely been a reaction to her extreme exhaustion and her declaration about Harry a mere hopeful statement. That must be it.

Involuntarily, her mind went back to the day of the battle, to her daughter’s anguished cry. She had been aware of Harry and Ginny’s relationship, of course, but she had thought it little more than a crush or a fling. Then he had died and Ginny had cried out with the anguish of a woman who has lost her soul mate, lost her will to live. And then she’d tried to take on Bellatrix Lestrange, a death wish for a young girl like Ginny, talented though she was. It was as if she’d wanted to die rather than live without Harry Potter. Some would have said she fought with determination, but Molly had seen that her daughter was fighting with resignation, instead. The pain on Ginny’s face when Molly stepped in and saved her broke her heart. The hurt in Ginny’s eyes wasn’t because she feared for her mother’s life, it was because she knew her last chance for honorable death had been taken from her.

That’s when Harry came back. Ginny’s face turned from grim to ecstatic. While the rest of the room looked on in fear, Ginny seemed to know that everything would be all right. She had pressed a hand to her stomach, much in the way an expectant mother does, to remind herself of the life inside her. For a second, Molly allowed herself to wonder what exactly had transpired between her surrogate son and her only daughter. But Harry had been away long, and if Ginny was carrying his child, it would have been obvious long before. She reasoned that Ginny’s gesture must simply have been one of deep relief, and to calm the butterflies inside, not to safeguard a life. She had forgotten about that gesture until today.

Again, today, Ginny had pressed a hand to her stomach when thinking about Harry Potter. It was as if she was carrying Harry’s life in her womb, rather than a child’s. Was she feeling for the warmth of his life? Was she searching for the bond between them? Had her daughter truly been bonded to the Savior of the Wizarding World?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the fireplace coming to life, again. She turned to see Harry Potter stumbling through the grate, trying to maintain his footing and keep from falling on the floor. He righted himself and dusted off, a confused expression appearing on his face.

“Harry, dear, how was your meeting?”

He turned suddenly, and glanced at Molly with a startled expression. His face relaxed when he saw who it was.

“It was good. It was a bit exciting getting to see an old friend. Sorry I’m so late, but you know how chatty Kingsley can be when he’s not in a public setting.”

Harry turned back to dusting off his clothes so he didn’t see the look of shock that flashed across Molly’s face at hearing him use the exact same words her daughter had used only moments ago. She schooled her expression and calmly replied, “Yes, I know. Arthur used to talk about their conversations together. Did you find out anything interesting?”

“Oh, yeah, I got everything I needed. He also gave me some news about Ron and Hermione you might like to hear. They checked in at the Australian Ministry of Magic after they arrived and asked them to send a message to us. Hermione’s made contact with her family and has undone the memory charm. She and Ron are staying at a hotel in the town where her parents live and they’re working to dig all the real memories out. She says they have loads of work still to do, but they’ve at least uncovered some of the most important memories. They aren’t ready to come home yet, but she thinks they will be in a couple of weeks. She’s not sure how often she’ll be able to check in, as apparently the ministry is quite far from where they’re staying, and they’re trying not to do too much apparating in areas where they aren’t as aware of the surroundings. She has to travel there by bus, and it takes a few hours, so she doesn’t know when she’ll have the time to stop by, again.” Harry thought for a minute, “I think that’s everything. Oh! Ron sends his love, of course. But you probably already knew that. Now, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Weasley, I’d like to speak with Ginny for a bit before she goes to sleep. I’ll see you later.”

Harry walked up the stairs and out of sight. Moments later she heard Ginny call a soft “come in”, though she didn’t hear Harry knock. The soft click of the latch told her that they were together in her room. She let her facial expression drop, and sank into the nearest armchair.

She was glad to hear that Ron and Hermione were making progress, but that wasn’t what was occupying her mind. Harry had used the same words Ginny had, and he’d somehow known she was here when Molly hadn’t told him. He even knew she was upstairs, trying to sleep, but had a sense that she wasn’t yet in dreamland. How could this be? She just couldn’t figure it out.

Molly stood from her chair and marched up the stairs. She was tired of not having the answers. She stopped at the landing outside Ginny’s room, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

Harry and Ginny turned quickly at the sound of her entrance. They weren’t kissing, which is what she half expected to see, but from the looks of it, they were in an intimate conversation. Ginny looked at her mum with a confused expression, but Molly turned first to Harry.

“How did you know Ginny was up here? How did you know she wasn’t at the shop? She’s never home at this time. It’s just you, me, and George, most of the time. How did you know?”

Harry looked startled at the questions and looked carefully at Ginny before giving a hesitant answer.

“You told me she was here, didn’t you? I don’t know how I could know if you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say a word about Ginny, but you knew right where she was, and you even knew she wasn’t asleep. You used the same words to describe your meeting with Kingsley as she did, and you came home mere minutes after she told me you’d be home soon. That’s not a coincidence, Harry.”

Ginny peered at Harry with a mixture of happiness and comprehension on her face. Harry looked back at her with a question in his eyes. Something seemed to pass between them and then Ginny turned to her mum with a confident gaze and gestured to Hermione’s empty cot. Molly settled down onto the cot, and prepared herself for a long conversation.

Ginny gazed back at her mother for what seemed like an eternity. Just when Molly was beginning to get restless, Ginny took a deep breath and spoke.

“I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to figure it out. I’ve been careful, and I learned to hide the signs while I was at school, so hiding them at home when you had at least six other people to watch out for seemed almost effortless. Harry, unfortunately hasn’t had the same training. All of a sudden, the moment his connection begins to manifest, you come running up the stairs to talk about it. Mine’s been around for years and you never even a raised eyebrow.

I suppose I can’t blame you, though. As I said, I was rather good at it. But I’ll get on to the point. I’m connected to Harry, or rather, I suppose, we’re connected to each other. I’ve known about it for years now. It has nothing to do with our dating or our friendship. I didn’t choose it; it just happened, but I’d never undo it. And Harry’s connection to me is new, so new that he probably hasn’t become fully aware of it, yet. I don’t know exactly what to call the connection that I have with him, or that we now seem to share, except to say that it’s like a bonding. I can literally feel his life, Mum. Here.” She put her hand to her stomach and closed her eyes, seemingly taking great comfort from whatever she felt there.

“It started when Harry rescued me from Tom in the Chamber. He brought me back from the brink of death, Mum. That’s no small thing. At first it was just a tiny warmth in my gut and a sense of life, though I couldn’t tell from who, in the beginning. I was worried that I was still connected to Tom, but it felt too pure, too warm to belong to him. When Harry came to visit that summer, the feeling got stronger, and I noticed that it was particularly powerful when we were close together. I knew, then, that it wasn’t Tom I was connected to, it was Harry. It was still scary, Mum. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I could sense him, where he was, what he was feeling. I knew that wasn’t normal, even for witches, and I started looking for mention of it in books. What little I could find suggested that it was a bonding of some kind, though it was always very vague and never quite like what I was experiencing. I don’t have much in the way of facts. What I do know, is that it takes a significant event to trigger the bonding. Usually it’s one person saving the other from death or near-death. And from what I’ve been able to tell, the bond only works one way. I can feel Harry, but he can’t feel me. At least, he couldn’t before. I don’t know what happened to connect him to me.”

Harry’s face took on a look of comprehension.

“It was because you saved me. You kept me from moving on,” Harry spoke from Ginny’s side. He looked a bit confused and nervous, but he gripped Ginny’s hand and spoke with confidence. “I’ve never told anyone this, before, so just…just listen, okay?” He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“When I went into the forest to face Voldemort, I knew I was going to die. I knew he would kill me. And he did. I was on my way to the afterlife when I stopped in this sort of in-between, I guess you’d call it. Dumbledore, or the essence of Dumbledore or something, met me there and told me I had two options: I could either go on to the afterlife, meet my parents, reunite with Sirius and Remus and all the others, or I could come back here to death and destruction, sorrow and heartbreak. And you.”

He turned to look at Ginny and she met his gaze. Both teens had tears shining in their eyes. “I came back for you, Ginny. You were all I had left to live for. Ron and Hermione had each other. They could survive without me. Your family would have gone on without me. But you were different. I remembered your smile, and the way your hair shines copper in the sun, and how peaceful you looked when I’d come into the common room late and you were asleep by the fire, surrounded by books. I couldn’t imagine leaving that behind. I didn’t…I didn’t want to die having never had the chance to know what life with you could have been like. Merlin, Gin. I think…I think…” he seemed unable to verbalize whatever it was he was thinking, but Molly had a good idea she knew what it was. Based on Ginny’s teary smile, and the hand she kept pressed tightly to her abdomen, Ginny understood, too.

After a moment, Harry continued. “Well, what I’m trying to say is, you saved me from continuing on into death. You saved my life. Now I’m bound to you just as much as you’re bound to me. Though I wish I knew more about it. I’ve saved a lot of people, and now I’m worried they’re all bound to me, too. Though, come to think of it, a lot of people have saved me, too, and I don’t feel particularly well connected to them. Why us?” He looked at Molly. “Why Ginny and I?”

“It’s an ancient Druidic bonding, one of the deepest sort." The teens eyes took on a look of surprise as she spoke. Clearly, they hadn't actually expected her to know anything. "Aunt Muriel told me about it many years ago when I was still a child, when I still believed in Druidic powers. As I got older, I began to think it was all hogwash. You know, the sort of old bush magic that doesn’t amount to anything more than prize winning pumpkins and a cure for a head cold. But when I was a kid, I loved hearing about it."

She paused as their eyes took on a faraway look. "Anyway," she continued, "Druidic customs and rituals pass through the women, and she always hoped I’d grow up to be a priestess, like her. Her great-great-grandmother was a High Priestess, and considered very powerful. She was the first Druid of our line. Aunt Muriel was the fifth. I was to be the sixth, but I never followed that path. You, Ginny, are the seventh- the seventh Druid and the seventh child of a Druid, our only girl. When Muriel heard you were a girl, she nearly went spare. Kept talking about destiny and great power. ‘Two Sevens in one girl,’ she'd say. Even though I never claimed my Druidic powers, they were still there, and they’ve passed to you. That’s why the bonding took. Only a Druid can be bound by a Druidic Soul Bond. There are other types of Life Bonds that can affect regular witches or wizards, even Muggles, but this bond, the deepest bond of all, can only affect Druidic women and the men they are bound to. Harry was able to form a bond with you only because you were already bound to him. Do you understand?" They nodded. Molly continued, "Unfortunately, this type of two-way bond has only been recorded once before, and even that record is vague. Most Druidic Soul Bonds are one way, and are never reciprocated. They usually result in close friendship, though sometimes in romantic love. In some cases, the pair move apart and the bond fades, though it will never go away.”

“What happened to the others who had the two-way bond?” Ginny asked.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure. Aunt Muriel told me about it, but there wasn’t much to tell. Apparently, it was between two women who became as close as twins, but little else is known about them. I'm sorry. I can’t tell you what to expect. Though, if you don’t mind my asking, what have you experienced so far?”

“Well there’s always that warmth that tells me Harry is alive, no matter how far apart we are, and I can sense his moods when we’re near each other. It used to be that we had to be very close, but now I can sense it over greater distances. There’s nowhere on the Burrow’s property where I can’t tell what he's feeling. The same is true of Grimmauld Place. And I can use it almost like a compass to find him if I don’t know where he is. And…well, there’s a sort of…tension between us all the time because of our attraction to each other. It’s a bit like lightning would be, I expect.”

The teens blushed red and Harry kept his eyes on the ground. Molly chuckled to herself over their embarrassment. As if she didn’t know what they got up to! She remembered young love, and from the sounds of it, theirs was much stronger than hers could ever have been, as much as she loved Arthur. And it seemed that they were handling it like adults, so she saw no reason to be angry at them.

That wasn’t to say that this whole business of the Druidic Soul Bond wasn’t troubling to her. Ginny and Harry dating, or even falling in love and getting married, was one matter. To know that Ginny was bound to him, connected to him in almost every way at the tender age of 16 was another matter entirely. She hadn’t yet told them the troubling parts about the Soul Bond. Harry’s safety could be a matter of life and death for Ginny, too, and Molly didn’t know if she could stand to lose them both at once.

It also meant that their love would grow exponentially, and very quickly, and while Molly would be more than happy to see her daughter marry Harry Potter, she had hoped she’d have a few more years before she had to give her baby away. And, besides, marriage was supposed to be a choice, but this bond was forced on her without her knowledge. Even though Ginny would probably have chosen Harry, anyway, Molly regretted the fact that the power to choose was stripped from her.

She gave a long sigh and looked at the two sitting in front of her. As if on cue, Ginny gave an enormous yawn, prompting Harry to stand from the bed, so she could wiggle down into it. Molly had quite forgotten how tired Ginny had been. She rose from her seat and pat her daughter on the leg.

“Well, Dear, we can talk about this more, later. Get some rest. I’ll be sure to wake you for dinner.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Ginny mumbled as her eyes grew heavier, "I love you."

"I love you too, Ginny, dear."

Molly bent down, kissed her on the cheek and smoothed her hair from her face. She gave Harry a bone-crushing hug, and told him he was welcome to sit and read in Ginny’s room, if he liked. He smiled in relief, and settled onto the cot, pulling a battered Quidditch book from the shelf near the bed. Molly exited the room and pulled the door shut behind her, content to let her daughter and sure-to-be-future-son spend their afternoon in peace.


	11. Chapter 11

“So, this bond thing, how does it work?” Harry asked as he combed his fingers through Ginny’s long, red hair.

They were seated outside near the Quidditch pitch, reclining against the rusted base of the center goal hoop, brooms laying on the ground not far away. They’d been out flying on the old brooms, reveling in each other’s company and enjoying the thrill of flying again. Harry hadn’t known, when he’d left last summer, if he’d ever experience the joy of riding a broom again, so to be able to fly, even on one of the Weasley’s archaic brooms, was nothing less than pure ecstasy for him, especially since he got to enjoy Ginny’s infectious laughter the whole time. He’d forgotten how alive she became when she was in the air.

When Ginny had turned back to look at him with a smoldering look in her eyes, he hadn’t hesitated to follow her back down to the ground. As soon as they landed she vaulted off her broom and captured his lips in a fiery kiss. Harry responded eagerly, dropping his broom unceremoniously to the ground next to him. Her kiss was its own special brand of magic, making his nerves race and his mind clear of everything but her. They lost themselves in each other for a few long moments before the need to breathe overcame them both, and, reluctantly, they pulled away.

“Gin,” said Harry, breathing heavily, “it’s not that I’m complaining, because I’m definitely not, but what in Merlin’s name was that kiss for?”

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?” Ginny asked with a coy smile, making Harry’s stomach flop again.

He pressed another searing kiss to her lips.

“No. But something tells me you had one.”

She sighed.

“Harry, love, we’ve got to find a way for you to control those emotions. I never thought there would be anything that distracted you from flying, but I’m quickly discovering that I can serve as a distraction from a great many things.” Ginny replied. “I wouldn’t have thought something like washing the dishes would have been endearing to you, but you nearly made me break Dad’s favorite mug last night. If you’d kept up those thoughts while we were flying, you’d have jolted me right off my broom. Nearly did, actually.”

“I thought the kissing relieved the tension.” Harry stated timidly. “Am…am I not doing it right?”

Ginny’s bark of laughter rang across the grounds of the Burrow. Her eyes glowed with a mysterious glint as she stepped closer to Harry, forcing him to take an automatic step backwards. She continued pacing after him until his back met the cool, rough metal of the goalpost and Ginny took her final step, molding her body against his.

She raised a hand to his face and traced a path from his chin to his hair, before fisting her hand in his untidy locks. Her gaze darkened as she pulled his head down and stood on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear.

“Oh, no, Harry. Trust me, you are doing it absolutely right,” she whispered before gently nipping at his earlobe. Quick as a cat, she pulled her hand from his hair and stepped back a step, letting air flow between them again.

Harry remained ramrod straight against the goalpost with his head bent at the strange angle she’d pulled it to so she could whisper in his ear. His eyes were wide with surprise, and something else, too, though Ginny couldn’t quite describe what she saw there. As if in a daze, Harry licked his lips and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple rising and falling with a visible shudder. With a deep breath, he shook off the stupor and righted himself before sinking to the ground and inviting Ginny to join him with a pat on the grass next to him.

“Well, if it isn’t my snogging ability causing you problems, what is it?” Harry asked as she settled and he gently laid a hand on her knee. “Is it how often? Because, after a display like that,” he leaned in next to her ear and spoke in a low voice, “I certainly wouldn’t mind doing it a bit more.”

Ginny angled her head to capture his lips with hers.

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” she murmured against his lips, “but I’m afraid it still won’t solve our problems,” she added as she pulled away, another cheeky grin on her face.

Harry gently squeezed her knee. “It could be worth a try,” he said, with his own cheeky grin, as he planted a gentle kiss behind her ear and nuzzled into her neck.

Merlin, she’d forgotten how good it felt for him to kiss those places.

Their physical relationship hadn’t progressed too far while they were in Hogwarts. Harry hadn’t really seen many successful relationships, and the physical side of things he was even more woefully unfamiliar with. One teary kiss from Cho notwithstanding, his first real kiss was when he’d burst into the common room after their Quidditch victory and snogged her senseless.

Despite their relationship having started with a rather fantastic kiss, it took Harry a while to build up the confidence to kiss her again, much to Ginny’s frustration. However, once they got started, he learned rather quickly. Ginny thought herself a rather good tutor. While they were careful never to use the same hiding places she and Dean had used (especially after a particularly awkward incident involving Seamus and some Hufflepuff girl they couldn’t identify. Of course, the fact that her face was largely obscured by Seamus’s mouth and hands made the task rather more difficult.), the Marauder’s Map showed them several out-of-the-way hiding places that they used to great advantage. Despite Ginny’s joke about Harry’s Hungarian Horntail tattoo, she’d never actually seen his bare chest, though she’ll always remember that Saturday in late April last year when she’d finally let her hand slip beneath the hem of his shirt to roam over the bare skin of his back. Harry’s sharp intake of breath and increased fervor had left her anxious to try it again, but, sadly they’d never gotten the chance.

Thankfully, even after so much time apart, things naturally fell back into place with them rather quickly, and after releasing some of the tension, Ginny’s sleep had improved dramatically.

Her waking hours, however, were another story. Since Harry was now able to reciprocate the bond, the feelings he felt were amplified. When he was tired, Ginny would yawn. When he was happy, Ginny would smile. When he was attracted to her, bolts of lighting would shoot down her spine so strongly she’d stumble or become clumsy. Then, as soon as that passed, she’d burn with a desire so strong she’d have to exert an extreme amount of self-control just to keep from snogging him senseless wherever they happened to be.

Sighing, she shrugged out of Harry’s kiss and rested her head on his shoulder. As much as she wanted to let him continue kissing her, she knew this couldn’t continue forever. They had to find a solution to this before things became embarrassing. Somehow, Harry sensed that it had to do with their bond, and as he combed his fingers through her hair, he asked her the question.

“So, this bond thing, how does it work?”

“Well,” Ginny replied after a moment, “it’s a bit like Legillimency, I imagine, though it goes both ways and you can’t actually read minds.”

“So, nothing like Legillimency, then.”

“No. No, I guess it isn’t. Empathy, maybe? Or…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel what you feel and you feel what I feel.” She placed an open palm on his core. “Concentrate on this spot. Close your eyes and concentrate. What does it feel like?”

Harry let his eyes fall shut and concentrated on the area beneath her hand. At first, all he could feel was her hand, but as he cleared his mind of other thoughts, suddenly another feeling sprung up. Something warm and fuzzy and entirely wonderful. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and somehow he just knew, instinctively, that it was Ginny’s life he was feeling. It somehow was her, deep inside his very being, his very soul, alive.

He drew that feeling into every part of him, breathing deep as he let the warmth that was Ginny wash over him. And suddenly, he knew. She was happy, but also a bit frustrated. She was a little bit hungry, as it was that awkward time between lunch and dinner and they’d been flying for a while. Then, pushing through all that, there was a wonderful feeling of what Harry could best describe as a mix of affection and acceptance and joy, but that was stronger than anything he’d felt before, that suddenly emanated from the exact place where Ginny’s palm pressed against his abdomen.

It rushed straight to his heart before filling the rest of him. He gasped as that one unidentifiable emotion swept through him. It was the most powerful thing he ever felt and it took his breath away. But even as he wondered at it, he identified with it, and, instinctively finding her other hand on the ground next to him, he clasped it and sent that same strange emotion back to her. He knew she felt it when a feeling of pure happiness and mild surprise suddenly enveloped him. Almost reluctantly, Harry sent all those feelings, all those connections back to his core and opened his eyes. He could still feel them, but not so strongly as before.

His green eyes met her brown ones, both filled with awe and wonder, and both with a hand pressed almost protectively to their own centers. Once he’d felt it, Harry couldn’t imagine living without it. He couldn’t fathom the way Ginny felt when he’d died, couldn’t understand how she hadn’t just laid down her wand and walked into the nearest curse she could find. That’s what he would have done, rather than face an existence with a hollowness where her lifeforce now hummed.

The redhead next to him let out a contented hum of her own, and Harry turned to look at her. Her head still leaned on his shoulder, but her eyes were closed lightly, as if she were the most content she had ever been. In fact, the feeling of serenity that now radiated from his center told him that such a thing may actually be true. The only other time she’d looked so peaceful was when he’d woken up next to her that morning after her flying accident.

Fierce, fiery, determined Ginny was perhaps the girl he’d first been attracted to, and that side of her would never cease to make the beast in his chest roar; but this softer side of Ginny, the one he was fairly certain no one else ever saw, not even her mother, made the beast react in an entirely different way. He’d always wanted to protect her, that feeling wasn’t new, but even stronger than that was this need to keep her with him always, to never do anything that would make her leave, make that happy smile slide off her face. He knew, now, that Druidic Soul Bond or no Druidic Soul Bond, he belonged to this delicate, strong-willed, flame-haired beauty and nothing, not even the rise of a new dark lord or the entire force of all the Death Eaters still left in the world, would be enough to tear him from her side. He’d come back to see what life would be like with her. He’d come back because, something, something he couldn’t explain or identify or comprehend, pulled him back to her. He’d come back because–

He didn’t get to finish that thought. Ginny shuffled in his arms until she was snuggled into him as close as she could get. He wrapped his other arm around her, and dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head, her hair warmed from the summer sun so that it was almost as if it were actually aflame. She wrapped her arms around his chest and sighed into him.

“That’s nice,” she murmured.

“Hm?”

“That feeling. I like it. What were you thinking about?”

“Oh,” Harry replied, uncertainly, “you. Well, and how lucky I am to have you. And how I probably don’t really deserve you.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Harry. And you probably don’t deserve me, actually, which is why you should treasure every single moment that I deign to spend with you, and do absolutely everything I tell you to do.”

Ginny was smirking again, and Harry could feel her teasing nature seeping through the bond.

“I certainly will, Ginevra the Magnificent. And how shall I serve you today.”

“Well, you can start by dropping the ‘Ginevra.’ You know I’m not really a fan of my full name. Then, you can kiss me, and take me back inside to sneak some biscuits before dinner. And, of course, if we get caught, you will take all the blame.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Hmmmm…” Ginny pretended to think for a minute, but really, he had a point. Somehow or another he’d managed to take all the blame for anything they got caught doing that they perhaps shouldn’t have been doing. And somehow, because it was him and not her, they had managed to stay out of trouble for the majority of the summer, even though they were fairly certain her mum knew exactly what was going on. “Yes, I suppose you do. Come along then. I’m hungry!”

Harry laughed.

“I know,” he said with a smile. He kissed her quickly and then swooped her up onto his back, causing her to laugh with joy.

“Hey, Gin,” he said as they were nearing the house, “we never figured out what to do about those, er, feelings.”

“Oh!” Ginny gasped before becoming extremely still on his back. He could tell she was concentrating on something. Then, he felt a brief surge of delight and relief as she exhaled against his neck.

“I think it’s going to be okay, now. Mostly. I think…it’s almost like you were leaking or something, since you didn’t really know what it was supposed to feel like. You seem to have, sort of, pulled it back in.”

“But what about when I get, er…excited?”

Ginny could feel his awkwardness through her bond even before she saw the telltale red blush creep across the back of his neck.

“Well…we’ll just have to see. Try and stay focused and keep your emotions contained. And whatever you do, don’t push them outward. I’ll still feel it, of course, but hopefully it’ll go back to the way it was before. Or at least something close to it.”

“Ok. And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll be forced to ask Mum, I guess.” She shuddered against his back and he laughed, taking off at a jog for the last few steps.

He burst through the back door and into the kitchen, sliding Ginny down before she lunged for the biscuit tin and pulled open the lid. Just as she plunged her hand inside, the kitchen door swung open and Molly Weasley’s face appeared. Stuck literally with her hand in the cookie jar, Ginny had no other option but to own up to their pre-dinner thievery, and Harry felt her flash of annoyance as she opened her mouth.

Before she could get a word out, however, Molly said, “Oh good! Bring those biscuits into the living room while I make up some tea. We’ve got a couple of visitors!”

Ginny’s mouth snapped shut as she quickly pulled her hand from the jar and replaced the lid. Dutifully, but warily, she walked into the living room, Harry in tow.

Visitors had been a rare thing at the Burrow this summer, what with the cleanup happening all over the country and the order helping Kingsley track down the rest of the Death Eaters. Most everyone had been engaged in some project or another and, apart from Harry’s birthday party, the Burrow had been noticeably devoid of anyone except immediate family.

So it was with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that they entered the living room.

What they found there was nothing that either of them could have anticipated. A dignified woman, whose medium-brown hair had been swept up into a tidy bun, was seated on the couch. Her elegance was slightly undermined by the squirming mass she held on her lap. From their vantage point, Harry and Ginny couldn’t quite see what the unknown visitor was wrestling with, apart from the color. Whatever it was, it was a shocking fluorescent green, and appeared to be made of some kind of hair.

“Come on, now, Teddy. That’s no way to behave, now is it,” the stranger cooed to the lime-green bundle as she began to bounce it. Harry thought he recognized that voice, even thought it seemed like another lifetime when he heard it last.

“Mrs. Tonks?” he cautiously asked.

She turned to glance over her shoulder and greeted him with a warm smile.

“Harry! How are you doing? Holding up alright?” she asked him, as they came around the couch and seated themselves in the chairs across from her.

“Sure. Things are going okay, I guess. What about you?”

“Oh, well, you know. Never thought I’d be raising another little one, but here I am, managing. I thought, well, I thought I’d bring Teddy by so you could meet him. He’s your godson, you know, and it occurred to me the other day that you’ve probably never even met the young fellow. Unfortunately, he’s chosen this moment to throw one of his infamous fits.”

Harry glanced down at the lime-green blob in her arm to discover that it was, in fact, a baby wrapped in a bright green blanket. His small, round face was topped with a head of equally green hair and his arms, which he’d wiggled out of the confines of his swaddling, were flailing wildly. His face was screwed up in frustration, but, for whatever reason he wasn’t crying.

“He’ll settle in a bit, though. Come over and get a look at him before he decides he wants to cry and I have to take him home. Lungs like his mother, this one has, and he’s broken through the sound-dampening charm on his room three times already.” She glanced over at Harry, who was sitting still as a statue on his chair. “Well come on, then,” she said, a bit impatiently, but still with kindness, “you act as if you’ve never seen a baby before. He’s as harmless as the rest, I swear. A sight more colorful, with his metamorphmagus hair, but still, harmless.”

Harry stood shakily and crossed to the couch, where he sat heavily as far from Teddy as he could get. Andromeda scowled at him a bit and looked curiously to Ginny.

“Er, Mrs. Tonks?” Ginny asked hesitantly. The dignified woman gestured for her to continue. “I don’t think Harry has seen a baby before, actually. I mean, not this close up.”

She looked surprised as she turned back to the raven-haired boy who was even now glancing at the writhing mass of blankets and hair with slight unease. Here eyes softened and she asked him gently, “Is that true, dear?”

He nodded once, quickly, his eyes never leaving Teddy’s head. It wasn’t just that Teddy was a baby that was putting him off, but that Teddy was Remus and Tonks’s baby. His green hair was something he definitely inherited from his mother, as was his round face, but his eyes and nose were different, and he presumed that came from Lupin. He was still too soft and baby-like to be certain who he would most resemble as he got older, but there was no mistaking who his parents were, and Harry was a bit unsettled by that.

Plus, his hair was lime-green and with his red, grumpy face, he was beginning to resemble a tomato.

Andromeda shifted Teddy to the other arm, bouncing him a bit as she reached out to place a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Come on, dear. He’s just a baby. I’d like you to meet him, and you can’t do it from way over there,” she soothed.

Carefully and slowly, Harry inched his way across the couch until he was only a few inches away from Andromeda. She smiled at him as she bounced Teddy in her arms. His eyes fixed on Harry, and his frustration turned to curiosity.

His eyes, which had been blue, turned green around the edges and his hair grew darker until it was a deep green.

“He likes you already,” Andromeda smiled. “At this point, he’s too young to change his hair color on purpose, but whenever he sees something interesting or something he likes, it sort of changes on it’s own. I suspect by the time we get home, he’ll be looking quite a lot like you.”

Harry appeared not to hear her as he continued to stare dumbfounded at the tiny baby. He was shaken from his stupor when Teddy was suddenly thrust into his chest, and his arms instinctively wrapped around the bundle of baby. Andromeda repositioned his arms to support Teddy’s head, then disappeared into the kitchen with some excuse about helping Molly with the tea.

Teddy was still looking at him with that curious baby gaze, and seemed completely unfazed about being in someone else’s arms. Harry, for his part, was terrified. He sat perfectly still, scared that even the slightest movement would break him. He was a bit heavier than Harry expected, but he was still so small and so fragile.

He felt the cushion next to him sink, and saw Ginny’s pale hand reach out to comb through the forest green fuzz on the top of Teddy’s head. Careful not to move his body, he turned his head to look at her, pleading with his eyes for her help.

“Don’t look at me, Harry,” she replied, “I’m the youngest. I haven’t had much experience with babies either.”

Harry sighed.

“But, you know,” Ginny continued, “I’m pretty sure they aren’t made of glass. Mrs. Tonks was wrestling him around a bit, and he seems just fine. Sit back on the couch and get comfortable, but keep that arm under his head. She said something about him not being able to hold it up well on his own.”

Hesitantly, Harry shifted back on the couch. The bit of movement didn’t seem to faze Teddy at all, who was now happily sucking on his fist. He arranged himself more comfortably, careful not to let Teddy’s head bob around too much, and contemplated the writhing bundle in his arms.

He was small, and smelled faintly of something Harry had never smelled before, but assumed must just be his own baby scent. He made strange gurgling noises as he swung his fists around in the air. He was smiling now, a toothless grin that made Harry’s heart flop in an unfamiliar way. This was his godson. He’d never had a godson before, or a real godfather, either, so he wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do. Sirius had been great, but he hadn’t been around quite long enough for Harry to have a good model. All he knew was that he was supposed to love this baby, and care for it in any way he could. Though, what a seventeen-year-old boy could do to care for a baby, he hadn’t the slightest idea. He supposed it would start with actually spending some time with the boy, and as he got older, playing with him and teaching him how to fly, and that sort of thing. It was all a bit beyond him, not having a real childhood of his own to model after, but nothing was as far out of his comprehension as the baby now laying in his arms.

He and Ginny sat there with Teddy for several minutes, each quietly staring at the little bundle, Ginny playing with his hair, and Harry occasionally gently bouncing him in his arms. He’d become a bit more comfortable with holding little Teddy, but he was still at a loss as to what he was supposed to do with him.

It was at that moment that Molly and Andromeda came back into the living room, both women smiling when they saw Harry gently bouncing Teddy, and Ginny cooing at him with her finger clutched tightly in his little fist.

“Doing better there, Harry?” Andromeda asked. “Are you ready to let him go, yet?”

“Er…” Harry hesitated. Despite being completely out of his depth, he was shocked to discover that he rather enjoyed having the happy little baby in his arms. It was at that moment, however, that Teddy screwed up his little face and a foul odor began wafting up into Harry’s nose.

Harry wrinkled his nose and both Molly and Andromeda gave a small chuckle. Andromeda swooped down and scooped up Teddy out of Harry’s arms.

“I’d teach you how to change it, but that might be a lesson for another day, I think.”

Molly chuckled, “The first time I showed Bill how to change a diaper, I thought he was going to pass out. He got the hang of it, though, and you will too, Harry dear.”

Harry was rather doubtful that he’d “get the hang” of anything having to do with babies, but he supposed he’d have to learn how to change a diaper one day, if he was planning on spending much time with Teddy. That thought gave him pause, and a contemplative frown appeared on his face.

“Er…Mrs. Tonks,” he started timidly.

“Please, Harry, it’s just Andromeda.”

“Right. Then, er, Andromeda, would it be possible for me to come visit Teddy sometimes? I mean, well…I’m his godfather, so, that is, I think I’m supposed to spend time with him, and…”

“Harry, of course you are welcome to visit him anytime. Should we arrange for you to visit once a week, for now? Or more, if you like.”

“No, once a week should be fine. I don’t really know what to do with him, anyway.”

“That’s fine, dear. I’ll show you what he likes and how to care for him. Should we say...this time next week? That’ll be Fridays in the afternoon. Is that alright with you?”

“Sure,” Harry replied. He looked at the young redhead to his left. “Is it alright if Ginny comes sometimes, too? When she isn’t working?”

“Of course, dear. You’re both welcome. Just floo on over next Friday. I’ll look forward to seeing you.” She straightened up. “Now, I’m going to get this little guy home and get him changed. You all have a wonderful evening. Thank you, Molly, for letting me call upon your hospitality, today.”

“Anytime, Andromeda. It’s nice to have adult company every now and then, and I’ll never turn down a chance to see a precious little one,” Molly replied as she reached over and scratched Teddy under the chin. “Do stop by again, someday. And if you ever need any help, just let me know. I’d be happy to care for him for a bit, if you need.”

“Thank you, Molly. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, again. Goodbye! See you later, Harry, Ginny.”

Then she threw the green powder into the lit fireplace, stepped forward into the flames, and was gone.

Harry had nearly forgotten about Teddy since the end of the battle, but now he was all he could think about. He was a godfather. He was, in some ways, responsible for this tiny bundle of skin and bones that would one day become a fully-grown, fully-qualified wizard. And he would help shape that baby into a boy, then a teen, and one day, a man.

He was excited to get to know Teddy. He was also terrified that he would do it all wrong.

He felt a small hand on his back, and a sense of calm flowed from it and wrapped itself around his tumultuous feelings. He remembered that he wouldn’t have to do it alone. Andromeda would guide him, and Ginny would always be there by his side. He smiled at her, and put his arm around her shoulders. With that small hand on his back, and her smile shining up at him, he suddenly felt that spending time with Teddy wouldn’t be so scary after all.

He couldn’t wait for next Friday.


	12. Chapter 12

Ginny Weasley could not figure out what to do. Harry’s birthday was exactly three days away, and she hadn’t gotten a thing planned. She hadn’t gotten a gift, either, and that’s what she had intended to do, today. That was, until she realized she had no idea what to get him. So now she was out of ideas for what to do, and out of ideas for what to get. To put it plainly, Ginny was out of ideas.

She knew that Harry would go spare if he knew she was worrying about his birthday in the midst of all the other things she had a hand in. She was still working at the store, but thankfully, she and Angelina had managed to convince Katie to stay on and help, and Harry, with nothing else to do with his days, had even volunteered to help keep the back room stocked and organized some days, or do any closing work that needed to be done after all the people had left. He had made the mistake of coming out to restock the Skiving Snackboxes shelf one day while there were still customers milling about and had nearly been mauled. Ginny was quite amused, and Angelina was astonished by how many love potions and beauty products they’d sold that day, but Harry was just glad to have escaped with his life. Since then, he’d been conspicuously absent during shopping hours.

Today, Harry wasn’t at the shop. He’d arranged to visit the park with Andromeda and Teddy, in addition to his upcoming weekly visit, which gave Ginny the perfect opportunity to get his birthday shopping done without having to hide her absence from him. He’d be far enough away that he’d have no idea if she left the shop. So, really, it was now or never.

Ginny would ordinarily say she worked well under pressure, but when it came to gifts and Harry, it didn’t seem to be making much difference.

Angelina had popped out for a bit to take yesterday’s till money to Gringotts for deposit, leaving Ginny in charge of restocking and minding the store for a bit. It had been a slow day, and now they were in their 2:30 slump, when most everyone was at work, so the store was mostly empty as Ginny went around restocking the shelves. As soon as Angelina came back, Ginny was going to beg off early.

She knew she wanted to do something special for Harry, since his coming-of-age birthday last year was rather overshadowed by Bill and Fleur’s wedding and the events that followed. Besides, they had a bit more to celebrate this year, as there was no longer the threat of Voldemort, or the possibility of Harry’s imminent death hanging over their heads.

As far as party planning went, she was sure they’d be having the party at the Burrow, and she’d been gathering décor for weeks. She’d been planning on a surprise party, but Harry’s new ability to sense her general emotions had developed rather quickly, and he’d guessed what she was up to before she had time to figure out if it was possible to shield herself from him. Now she just had to make sure that the party would be good enough to be memorable without the element of surprise. She thought she’d pretty much worked that out as well as she could just this morning.

There was still the issue of the present, though. What does a poor witch get for the richest wizard in England who already has everything he could ever want or need? She couldn’t think of a single thing, but she was hoping a stroll through Diagon Alley would inspire her. When Katie came in fifteen minutes later, Ginny took off her name badge, gathered her small sack of galleons, sickles, and knuts (mostly knuts), and set off through Diagon Alley.

It was at the very first shop she passed that she saw the perfect item. Unfortunately, the beautiful gift was well outside her price range. Her heart fell. She knew that she had finally found what she wanted, but she didn’t know how she was going to get it for him.

“See something you like, dear?” said the shopkeeper. She’d seen Ginny through the window, and had come out to offer assistance.

“Yeah, but it’s all right. I haven’t got the money for it. I’ll have to find something else,” Ginny replied as she turned to move on down the Alley.

“Well, what’s the occasion? Maybe we can find you something else nice. Heading back off to Hogwarts? We’ve got loads of great things for students that are more affordable, if you’d like to take a look. Come on inside, dear, and we’ll find you something.”

Reluctantly, Ginny allowed herself to be led inside. There wasn’t any harm in looking, after all, though she would have to leave soon; she really needed to find Harry a gift, today.

“So? What is it, then? Back to Hogwarts?”

“Oh! Sorry. No, I’m not going back. And the gift isn’t for a student, either. At least, he hasn’t told me he’s going back. I can’t imagine he’d ever want to see the place again after…well, you know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you all this. It’s just that I’m rather stressed about finding the perfect gift, you know? His birthday’s on Friday, and I just can’t think what to get him. When I saw your window display, it seemed perfect, but I know I just can’t afford it.”

“Ahhhhh, so you’re looking to buy for a special someone, then. Well tell me a bit about him, and we’ll see if I don’t have something else I can recommend.”

“Well, he’s extremely brave, and handsome, but he never recognizes any of those things in himself. He’s charitable and loving and caring. He’s truly the only person I could ever imagine being with.”

“Such love in one so young! How old are you, my dear, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’m sixteen, but he’s seventeen, nearly eighteen. And I’m nearly of-age, as well. I would’ve been going into my seventh year.”

“Sixteen! My word! You’re so young! And so close to Harry Potter’s age, too! Did you know him? Did you ever meet Harry Potter? Heavens, I’d love to meet him. I owe him my life, I do.”

Ginny chuckled to herself, and hid her smile behind a cleverly timed yawn.

“We all owe him our lives, I’d say. But Harry…he’s just a normal student like the rest of us. When you’re at Hogwarts you can almost forget he’s famous, except for all the excitement that always follows him around. He’d accept your thanks, to be sure, but he’d never ask for them. He did what he did because that’s just the kind of person he is, not because he’s the famous Harry Potter. But, anyway. I really have to get going. The only thing I could give him would be that one in the window, but I’ve already told you I can’t pay. I’ll have to find something somewhere else. Sorry.” Ginny turned to leave, but the shopkeeper caught her by the arm, her giddy smile replaced by an intelligent gaze, though there was no malevolence in her face.

“Dearie, don’t think I’m as daft as all that. I know what Friday’s date is, and I know right well who was born on that day. When you talk about him, you speak with love in your voice. And by your hair, I’d guess you’re that young Weasley girl that Rita Skeeter keeps saying he’s run off to Turkey with. Oh, don’t look so afraid, dear. I don’t believe half that rubbish the old tosser prints, but it would seem that she’s hit at the truth here with you, at least a bit. I’ll take whatever you’ll give me for that beauty, and not a knut more. And when you give it to him, do tell him how thankful I am that he did what he did. I can’t imagine what life would have been like with You-Know-Who running around mucking things up. I’m a half-blood, I’m not ashamed to say, and I don’t think I would’ve stood much chance of survival under his rule. Now, how much do you want to pay?”

Ginny ended up emptying her purse to the woman, much as the shopkeeper tried to protest. After what seemed like an eternity of negotiations, Ginny finally convinced the woman to take it all, and she left with the promise to return to pick up her gift on Harry’s birthday. She went back to the shop and flooed home, a satisfied smile on her face.

************************************ *************

It was later than usual on Friday when Harry flooed back from Andromeda’s house. She’d been oddly reluctant to let him leave, refusing to do so until he’d consented to learning how to give Teddy a bath. He tumbled from the grate with a horribly un-dignified flop, and groaned as he picked himself back up onto his feet. The Weasleys had quickly learned that Harry was about as coordinated in the floo as a flamingo would be on a broomstick, and they’d covered the floor in front of the fireplace with layers of cushioning charms. Somehow, Harry still managed to get all banged up every time he landed.

“Blimey, Harry. I knew you were clumsy, but this is just bloody ridiculous, mate!”

“Seamus! Watch your mouth! And be nice to poor Harry! He’s probably injured himself. Are you alright, Harry? Do you need anything?”

Harry, who had been rubbing his knee where he was certain there would be a nasty bruise later, jerked up his head at the first sound of a familiar voice. With a dumbfounded gaze he took stock of all the people assembled around him. It looked like half of Gryffindor House was there, plus a few from other houses. He shook himself out of his stupor and turned questioning eyes on Ginny. He’d felt that she was planning a surprise, but he thought he’d figured that out. This, though, this was clever. She looked back at him with a smirk and he caught an almost haughty sense of accomplishment coming from her. She turned to the blond girl next to her and answered the question.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Lavender. If he’s bruised anything it’s just his ego. We’ve been trying to teach him how to floo properly, but he’s just rubbish at it. Best we can do is cushion his fall. Only, I seem to recall George doing a bit of spell work here, earlier, so I can’t say how effective the charms are, today.”

Harry glanced to the back of the pack to see an innocent looking George dodging his gaze. So it was George who’d made his landing rough, then. Well, at least he’s pranking again. Though I wish he’d do it on someone other than me, Harry thought as he rubbed another sore spot on his elbow.

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what she’s talking about, Harry,” George said.

Before Harry had a chance to reply, Ginny spoke.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m sure you’ll be fine, Harry, dear. And what we were all here to tell you, before you so thoroughly embarrassed yourself falling out of the floo, was Happy Birthday!”

A chorus of “Happy Birthday” rang throughout the room, and Harry smiled.

“Thanks, guys. It’s really great to see you all, again. You’ve no idea how strange it is to think that we’re done with Hogwarts, now.”

“Well, Harry, we aren’t all done with Hogwarts. Neville and I will be going back, won’t we Neville?”

Neville looked curiously at the big-eyed blonde. “Er…yeah. I was planning on going back, actually. How did you know?”

“Oh, it’s very easy to tell, you see. You’ve got to go back and get your NEWT’s or Professor Sprout will never let you teach Herbology. It’s all very clear. Your aura is quite revealing.”

Everyone looked curiously between Luna and Neville, but Neville just shrugged and asked, “Well, that’s two. Anyone else going back?”

“Hermione is,” Ginny said. “She told me before she left. I’m supposed to get her books for her when the letters come in.”

“Really? She never told me about it,” Harry stated, a questioning look on his face.

“Well, she wouldn’t, would she, Harry? She knows you aren’t going, and we can all bet Ron won’t go. He’s never liked school, and as connected as the two of them have been, lately, I’m not sure even she could drag him back there. But she’s got to go back. She wants to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but she hasn’t got the NEWT’s. They offered to take her without them, but she felt it was too dishonest and unfair. Besides, when have you known Hermione to pass on school?”

“That’s true, I suppose. And it does make sense, given all those law books she’s been carrying everywhere. She’s not even here, and I still keep finding one every time I sit down somewhere different.”

“Oh, yeah! Is that what this is?” Dean asked, as he pulled a large volume from the chair he was sitting in. “It was wedged under the cushion. This thing is enormous!”

“Yeah, they keep turning up in odd places. She must have fifty or more of them, and I swear they’re spelled to be a nuisance. They used to lay around on tables, but now they’re always in the way!”

Harry’s eyes met George’s and the two smiled behind Ginny’s back. It seemed George wasn’t just pranking Harry after all. The look in his eye told Harry that he knew exactly how the books were getting into all those strange places. Seeing George pranking again, even if it was just little things, was a major milestone.

Harry turned back to his friends, and began the party in earnest. Mrs. Weasley truly outdid herself with the food she prepared for the occasion. Like Ginny, Mrs. Weasley felt that Harry’s seventeenth birthday had been overshadowed, and was attempting to make up for it. For his part, Harry was just enjoying seeing all his friends, again. His last memories of them were colored by the battle, and he was glad to be able to replace those memories with these happy ones. The teens were all lounging in the living room, watching Harry and Seamus finish a game of Exploding Snap when, suddenly and quite unexpectedly, the fireplace behind them roared to life with bright green flames. This startled Neville, who had been leaning on the mantle, and caused him to fall into the floor on top of the Exploding Snap cards, which promptly exploded, singeing poor Neville’s backside. While Luna, Lavender, and Seamus tended to Neville, Harry and Ginny moved to look into the fire, and were surprised at the face they saw there.

“Oh, good. We aren’t too late, then,” Hermione’s face said. She turned and called over her shoulder, “See, Ron! I told you we’d be fine. They’re 11 hours behind us. It’s still his birthday, there!” She turned back to face them. “Happy Birthday, Harry! It looks like you’re having quite the party. I wish Ron and I were able to be there. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron! Okay, here!”

Hermione’s face disappeared from the flames to be replaced by Ron’s.

“Hey, mate! Happy Birthday! Hey, guys! Oi! Neville! Your pants are smoking.”

Neville nodded as he continued patting out his smoking pants, though he did so with a smile on his face.

“Anyway, Harry. How are things at home? Bored out of your mind yet? Is the house done?”

“Finished the house ages ago. Since then it’s been pretty quiet.”

“Don’t let him fool you, Ron,” Ginny said from his side. “Things are still moving along pretty well. I’ve been working in the shop a lot, and Harry helps out some, too. George stops by every now and then, for a couple minutes at least. Andromeda and Teddy were around last week, and Harry just got back from visiting there before the party started. Everyone’s keeping busy. Things are almost normal, here, actually. Or as close to normal as they can be, given the circumstances. And before you ask, no, we don’t miss you at all. Just Hermione,” she continued, as she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oi!” Ron crowed indignantly. Then he sighed, “Wish I could say the same for things here. It’s not going as well as we’d hoped.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I thought you didn’t miss me,” Ron answered cheekily.

“Shut up. Just answer the question.”

He sighed a heavy sigh, “I don’t know, Ginny.” Ron shook his head with what looked like resigned frustration mixed with extreme exhaustion, before appearing to glance back over his shoulder. “Oh, er…Hermoine wants back in. She says we’re nearly out of time. I guess I’ll see you guys later. I hope we’ll be back soon. Bye!”

Harry and Ginny said goodbye, and took a look around the room while Hermione and Ron switched places. It seems that most of the guests had retreated to the porch to give the Harry and Ginny some privacy for their conversation. They seemed to be having just as much fun out there as they were in here, so neither felt all that guilty about taking over the living room. Hermione’s face appeared in the fire, and the two turned back towards her glowing green gaze.

“Sorry. I couldn’t get Ron out of the way. I’ve only got a couple minutes left, so I wanted to tell you a few things. It’s going slower here than we thought it would. I knew they’d be resistant and a little angry, but I never thought it would be this bad. It’s my fault really. I never told them what was really going on, and now that they know, they’re absolutely furious. Wouldn’t even let us in the house for a few days. We’re making progress now, though. I’m reintroducing some of the good memories, too. Ron told me I should’ve done that first, but I got ahead of myself a bit. The real trouble is that they like living here. They’ve got a dental practice and everything. Now I’ve got to convince them to give all that up and come back to England and start all over, again. I’m not sure if we’ll finish before…er…”

“Don’t worry about it, Hermoine. He knows you’re going back to school. What will you do if you aren’t finished by September?”

“Well, we’ll just have to leave them here, and hope they decide to come home on their own. If we haven’t convinced them by then, there isn’t much more I’ll be able to do, is there? But I can’t talk anymore. Ron tells me they’re giving us the one minute warning. I’m afraid I had to tell the Ministry I was calling to wish Harry Potter a happy birthday. Had a terribly hard time getting them to believe me, and they only gave us a few minutes. It’s not like it’s that busy at three in the morning, but they’re real sticklers over here, strangely enough. We won’t be able to floo again, so I probably won’t see you until we get back. Stay safe and keep out of trouble, won’t you? I’ll try to keep sending messages along through the Ministries, but even that’s a hassle. Oh! I’ve got to go! Tell the Weasleys we say ‘hello’, and Happy Birthday, Harry!”

And with a flash, she was gone. Harry sighed. He’d enjoyed seeing all his friends, today, but he’d especially enjoyed seeing Ron and Hermione. A part of him envied the fact that they were traveling around the world. Harry had never been out of the country before, as the Dursley’s had believed England was the only place in the world worth seeing. They had rarely traveled outside their little Surrey suburb, even. Harry had only ever seen other countries in geography class in primary school.

Well, and there was that bit when they were living in a tent. He’s pretty sure Hermione mentioned them being in France, once, but seeing the middle of a dreary forest while fighting starvation wasn’t exactly Harry’s idea of “international travel.”

Still, he couldn’t envy them too much. While they were undoubtedly enjoying their travels, Harry recalled from his geography lessons that the seasons there were opposite what they were here. Ron and Hermione were stuck in the middle of the Australian winter, with the seemingly impossible task of convincing Hermione’s parents to return home. From the sounds of it, they wouldn’t get back to England until it was nearly winter, here. It seemed that his friends would have almost an entire year of winter ahead of them.

Ginny’s tug on Harry’s arm pulled him from his thoughts. She smiled up at him.

“Come on, love. Let’s go open some presents.”

Harry followed her into the backyard, where Mrs. Weasley had set up the picnic table and covered it with Harry’s gifts. He was surprised to see a veritable mountain of presents stacked before him.

“Gin, where did all these come from? I don’t even know that many people.”

“Well, all of your friends brought at least one. Some are from the family. And some are from friends who couldn’t be here. We have more, but we can’t verify who exactly they’re from, so Dad thought it would be best if we didn’t open those. He sent them to the ministry to be examined. Anything deemed safe will be returned to you. You have no idea how many admirers sent in cards. We sent all those to the ministry to be looked over, too.”

Harry was speechless. In all the sadness at the Burrow, followed by the normalcy and routine of things, lately, he’d nearly forgotten about the outside world. He was dodging the Prophet, of course, but he’d been doing that for a few years, now. He’d forgotten he even had admirers. He looked over at his friends.

“Look, Harry, before you say anything, just listen. We didn’t give you any gifts because you saved the Wizarding World. The way we figure it, you owe us for saving your arse out there. Without us in the fight, you know it would’ve gone differently. I’m not saying we’re not thankful you did it, but don’t think that means we’re gonna start buying you presents and falling at your feet or anything. We got you gifts because you’re our friend, so don’t go getting your ego all puffed up, okay?”

Neville’s voice rang through the Weasley’s backyard, and his speech was peppered with nods from the assembled friends. Harry looked at them hard before he broke into a laugh. He grabbed Neville around the shoulders and hugged him in a very un-Harry-like fashion before looking him in the eye.

“I think you’re right. I do owe you. If you hadn’t killed that snake when you did, things would’ve been a lot different. You’re a hero too, Neville, but you’ll always be the clumsy kid who lost his toad on the train, to me. Thanks.”

Harry sat down with a smile beside the mountain of gifts. Neville rejoined the cluster of friends, a radiant smile running from ear to ear on his face, too. Though Harry didn’t usually like accepting gifts, today he decided he would enjoy it. If the war had taught him anything, it was that happy moments were to be treasured. Opening gifts while surrounded by your friends and family was certainly one of those happy moments.

His gifts were so numerous that Ginny had to go inside and get a quill and parchment to write them all down. The inner child in him was secretly delighted, and before he could stop it, the image of a huffing, fat, jealous Dudley popped into his head. The thought made him smile a little wider.

He was given nearly everything from Quidditch supplies to an ornamental box to keep his quills in on his desk, if he ever had one. The Weasleys surprised him by installing his hand on the family clock, and Seamus and Dean teamed up to get him a set of shrinkable practice dummies like those that the Room of Requirement had provided for them during DA lessons. Andromeda sent him several photos of Teddy, showing the boy with a different color of hair and eyes in each picture, including one that must have been taken shortly after his first visit. Teddy was sporting a messy tangle of black hair and radiant green eyes.

He was opening what seemed to be the last gift (a new set of self-inking quills from Professor McGonagal) when Ginny mysteriously disappeared into the Burrow. She re-emerged moments later with a largeish grey owl in a silver cage. The owl had its head tucked under its wing, but as Ginny set it on the table, it lifted its face and opened its eyes to reveal a piercing orange gaze. The owl looked Harry in the eye, let out a small hoot, then proceeded to narrowly investigate the other partygoers. Harry looked at Ginny in wonder.

“He’s called a Great Grey Owl, though the shopkeeper said he’s rare because he’s smaller than most, and has orange eyes, which is extremely uncommon. He must be some sort of cross-breed or something. It’s also really strange to find one this far south, but the woman at the owlery said he’s been living here contentedly for several months, now. When I saw him, I had to get him for you. I thought the rings around his eyes were a bit like your glasses, and I knew you’d need a new owl. I’m not trying to replace Hedwig, but this owl seemed to look right at me, as if he knew you needed him. I haven’t given him a name, yet. I thought I’d leave that to you.”

Harry could feel the tension radiating off Ginny, even though she appeared calm. To any onlooker, they’d think she was totally confident in her actions. Harry could feel the uncertainty inside her, though. He smiled at her, and pulled her in for a hug and a short, but tender kiss.

“Thank you, Gin. It’s the perfect gift. I still miss Hedwig, but you’re right, I do need a new owl, and this one is fantastic. I don’t have a name for him, yet, but we can name him together later.”

Ginny beamed, and Harry laughed at the feeling of her joy. She took the owl, who had tucked his regal head back under a great grey wing, back up to her room, so he wouldn’t be disturbed by the last minutes of sunlight. As the sun began to sink behind the trees around the Burrow and the darkness grew, the guests began to drift away until only the Weasleys remained. After a few (or several) minutes in a quiet corner of the house with Ginny, Harry trudged up the stairs to his room, and collapsed on his cot. He was asleep before his head touched the pillow.


	13. Chapter 13

As panicked as Ginny had been about Harry’s birthday, Harry was feeling no such apprehension about hers. He was fairly confident he’d arranged the best birthday present she could ever ask for, but it certainly had taken a few extra trips to “visit Teddy” in order to make it happen.

As a point of fact, most of the times Harry said he was visiting Teddy, he was, in fact, visiting Teddy. There had been a few select times, however, when a little misdirection had been necessary in order to achieve his goals.

This was one such time.

He’d left the Burrow early that day, telling everyone he’d gone to help Andromeda take Teddy to a local swimming pool, and that he would likely be back in the early afternoon. After arriving at Andromeda’s however, he whisked away again to his secret location, a wink from Andromeda assuring him that she would, once again, cover for him if anyone should call.

His secret location was, in fact, the Minister’s private conference room. And it was not empty. Seated at the large, oval table was a dark skinned woman, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail, her chin resting casually on a well-muscled arm propped up on the table.

Upon hearing Harry tumble gracelessly from the floo, her head whipped around and she regarded him momentarily with an icy brown stare. Her countenance brightened as Harry straightened himself up and dusted the soot off his clothes.

“Harry Potter!” the woman exclaimed as she crossed the room to greet him. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Jones,” Harry replied as his arm was pumped vigorously, and a bit painfully, by the Beater.

“Please, Harry, it’s just Gwenog.”

“Of course. Gwenog. Should we sit?”

“Might as well! I admit, Harry,” she continued as they seated them selves at one end of the long table, “when I got your letter asking for a meeting, and in the Minister’s private conference room, no less, I was a bit shocked. It’s not every day one meets, well…you.”

“I’m really nothing special.”

“Certainly you are! Can’t keep on denying that. I tried that tactic for a while and it doesn’t work. People who accomplish great things will always be lauded for them, whether they feel it is deserved or not. Of course, being a talented Quidditch player isn’t quite on the same level as saving the entire wizarding world, to be sure, but it does give me a bit of understanding about these things.”

“Then I’m sure you also understand how I feel about fame and The Prophet. We’re meeting here because it’s one of the only places I’m certain Rita Skeeter can’t get to.”

Gwenog laughed a hearty laugh.

“Merlin, I hate that woman. I feel your pain, Harry. Trust me, everything we say here will stay strictly between the two of us. And I’ll try my best to contain my hero worship,” she said with a sarcastic wink.

Harry smiled shyly.

“Thanks,” he said.

She waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t worry about it. So, what’s the meaning of this meeting anyway?”

“Right, well, I mentioned in my letter that my girlfriend is quite a fan of the Harpies. I’ve also recently learned that she won’t be going back to Hogwarts this year. She, er, well…she had a rough time of it last year, partly because of me, and she’s decided she’s quite finished with her education.”

“Understandably so. But what does this have to do with me? Do you need me to sign a poster or something?”

“Er, well, that would probably be nice, but I was actually thinking of something a little…bigger. See, what Ginny really wants to do is play Quidditch…for the Harpies.”

Gwenog sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“You’re asking a lot of me, Harry. I’ve never even seen her fly.”

“I know! I know. But, well, with her not going to Hogwarts this year, it’ll be difficult for her to get scouted, and I was informed that most teams weren’t having tryouts this year, except for positions that had been left empty because of the war, and she hasn’t been able to go to any because she won’t be of-age until Tuesday.”

“The Harpies don’t have any available positions. We were playing a tournament in Spain when the Ministry was taken, so we stayed out of the country until it was safe to come back. All our girls are still in fine playing condition.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end even more than it usually did. Suddenly he looked at her, his eyes determined.

“What about reserves? You always need more reserves, right?”

Gwenog thought for a moment.

“I suppose I could use one more Chaser reserve. Kelly’s been married a few years now and I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to lose her to motherhood sooner rather than later. You understand I can’t just give over the spot, though. She’ll have to try out.”

“Of course! No, Ginny would never feel right if she made the team just because I am who I am. Neither would I, actually. She just needs a chance to show you how she flies.”

“I can probably give her that. It would be silly to hold an open invitation for one position, though. Every witch in England wants to play for us, and it would be a circus, but I can probably do an invitational tryout. Would that be acceptable to you?”

“Yes! Anything.”

Gwenog smiled.

“Okay. I’ll arrange it with the higher ups. It would need to be quite soon, as soon as we can manage it logistically. Training season has already begun and I can’t have a new player come in completely green, even a reserve. You said her birthday is Tuesday?”

Harry nodded.

“Alright then. I’ll see if we can’t arrange it for the following Saturday. I’ll owl her the invitation as soon as I can, after her birthday, that is.”

Harry stood with a bright smile and stretched his hand across the table to shake Gwenog’s as she rose to her feet.

“Thank you so much. You have no idea how happy she’ll be.”

“I’m glad I could help. It’s a small favor considering what you’ve done for all of us. But Harry,” her expression grew serious as she leaned across the table towards him, “she’d better be a bloody fantastic flyer.”

Harry smiled again.

“Don’t worry. She is.”

And with a final handshake and a wave, he disappeared back into the green flames of the fireplace. It seems he’d have just enough time to take Teddy to the pool after all.

********************

Ginny was awoken on her birthday to the gentle creak of her bedroom door opening. With reflexes honed by living with Fred and George, as well as some rather less cheerful experiences over the past year, she grabbed her wand and pointed it to the door in less time than it took her to blink.

“Easy, love,” Harry whispered with a chuckle as he slid into her room and closed the door quietly behind him. “Wouldn’t want to hex your handsome boyfriend would you? Especially not when he comes bearing such lovely flowers.”

Ginny sighed and put her wand back on her bedside table as a smile spread over her face.

“Merlin, Harry. You should know better than to sneak up on people.”

“I thought you’d know it was me.”

“Well I realized it fairly quickly, didn’t I? But my reflexes are even quicker than my brain these days.”

“I know the feeling,” Harry muttered with a smile. “Well, anyway. Here. These are for you.”

He handed the bouquet gently to Ginny, who took them with a smile.

“They’re lovely. Let me just go get a vase from the kitchen,” Ginny said as she began to extricate herself from the bed.

“No! No. Nobody else is awake yet. Just us. I wanted to spend a little time with you this morning before everyone else got up. If you go down there, your mum will hear you and then it’ll all be for nothing.”

“Okay, then. What do you suggest?”

Harry smiled again.

“Well if I were a witch who’d just gotten the most beautiful flowers in the world on the morning I turned seventeen, I suppose I’d just conjure up a beautiful vase to keep them in for the time being.”

“Oh! Oh, I forgot!” she said as she grabbed her wand off the table. In a second, there sat on her windowsill a beautiful, but simple, white vase. Harry plucked the flowers out of her hand and dropped them in, before turning back to her with a grin.

“Budge over,” he said, gesturing with his hand for her to scoot further towards the wall. Obligingly, she shifted over, raising the covers for Harry to climb in next to her.

He smiled gently as he lowered the covers back down and instead lay down on top of them. Ginny looked at him strangely as he reached a hand out to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face.

“I want to spend the morning with you, but I’m sure your mum knows more than we think she does. I don’t fancy her barging in here and finding me under the covers with you.”

“Right,” Ginny said as she blushed.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t still enjoy ourselves,” Harry said as he ran his fingers over Ginny’s hair.

“Right. Good,” Ginny replied, rather incoherently as Harry leaned forward to close the gap and she reached her hand up behind his head.

“Happy birthday, Ginny,” he whispered against her lips as he pulled her into a searing kiss. Ginny responded enthusiastically, her still-sleepy brain having no problem processing the actions. Her desire for Harry was fairly straightforward and required very little brainpower.

She shuddered as the first bolt of electricity raced down her back, followed by the warmth and affection she knew Harry was pouring into her. She opened up to him, sending her own love right back into him. She felt his ragged intake of breath as her affections reached him and he pulled her tighter against himself as he deepened their kiss.

Ginny gasped as a fire she’d never felt before raced through her, blocking out everything but her and Harry. He pulled away and stared at her, his eyes a darker emerald than she’d ever seen. She felt their hearts beat together once, twice, three times, before she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

Something had changed. Something had shifted, and now Harry wasn’t nearly close enough. Wasn’t kissing her fast enough. Their tongues fought for dominance as they drew themselves ever closer, cursing the covers that kept them from tangling themselves together. Without a second thought, Ginny pushed her hand under the hem of his nightshirt, eliciting a quiet groan from Harry.

She ran both hands over his back as Harry ripped his mouth away from hers and began kissing the tender spot on her neck, nipping gently with his teeth. Ginny moaned low in her throat and freed one of her legs from the covers to wrap around Harry’s. Frustrated with the restriction of his shirt, she tugged on it until he sat up and ripped it over his head, stopping only long enough to toss it on the floor before he brought his lips back to hers.

He did not, in fact, have a Hungarian Horntail tattooed on his chest, a fact that Ginny noted in the deepest recesses of her mind, as her focus was rather more devoted to rubbing her hands over his shoulders and down his back, instead.

What she did notice, however, was that they were both now on fire. Somehow, she could feel that whatever flame had caught her had caught him, too. She could sense his pleasure as her hands roamed over his bare flesh, and it made her want to feel more of him.

Harry’s hands fisted in her hair as they snogged each other to within an inch of their lives. So wrapped up in each other were they, that neither of them heard the creaking of the first stair. Or the second. They didn’t part when someone knocked gently on Ginny’s door, either. Or when the creak of the hinges indicated that it had been opened.

In fact, it wasn’t until a rather angry shout disturbed the otherwise peaceful silence of the Burrow that either of them noticed anything but each other.

“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!”

They pulled away from each other, staring into each other’s shocked faces before Harry hastily scrambled off Ginny’s bed, tripping over Hermione’s cot, and landing in a heap in the corner of Ginny’s room.

Ginny’s face was the color of her thoroughly mussed hair and her lips were pink and swollen. Her eyes were closed, but Harry knew they would still be the deepest shade of brown. He could still feel how much she wanted him, even now, burning across every nerve in his body.

He let his eyes flutter shut as he attempted to regain control of his emotions. It was more difficult than it had ever been to separate his feelings from hers and he only partially managed, turning the raging inferno down to a slightly more manageable blaze.

In the seconds it had taken them to regain at least a modicum of control, Arthur had arrived at Ginny’s door, drawn by the sound of his wife’s shocked cry. He looked wide-eyed from Ginny to Harry, taking in Harry’s missing shirt, which was lying incriminatingly on the floor next to Ginny’s bed, their flushed faces and swollen lips, and the rumpled covers, before his face hardened as he realized what exactly his wife had interrupted.

“Right. Harry, I think you’d best come with me,” Arthur said with a disapproving glare on his face.

“No, Arthur, they got into this together. They'll deal with the consequences together,” Molly rebutted sternly.

Arthur grudgingly nodded his approval and stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He gestured for Harry to pick himself up off the floor, and the dark haired boy nervously made his way over to sit on the foot of Ginny’s bed, careful not to make any contact with any part of her body. Arthur and Molly stood over them, looking disappointedly down at both Harry and Ginny.

“Ginevra Weasley,” Molly began, “I know your father and I raised you better than this. I don’t care if you’re fully of-age now, you should have more decency than to get up to such irresponsible acts in your childhood bedroom! And seventeen is hardly old enough to be engaging in such behavior in the first place!” she continued.

The two teens blushed crimson at her words.

“And Harry, I’ve raised enough boys to know what tends to happen around your age, but we were trusting the two of you to be more responsible than this!”

“We’re sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry responded timidly, eyes downcast.

“Sorry you got caught, perhaps!” she exclaimed. “Who knows where this would have led if I’d slept in a bit longer!”

Ginny sat up and boldly took Harry’s hand in hers.

“No, Mum. We’re sorry. Honestly, it wasn’t supposed to happen. It was…it was just different. I told you how Harry and I are when we’re around each other, but today it was…” she fumbled for a word.

“Out of control. Like some kind of wildfire,” Harry supplied. Ginny nodded.

“Truthfully, this wasn’t supposed to happen. And…well…we didn’t actually do anything, so at least there’s that,” Ginny said.

“But what would have happened if I hadn’t come in?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny whispered as her chin began to quiver. “It’s terrifying to be that out of control. It’s never happened that way before.”

Harry squeezed her hand and sent some reassurance through their bond, along with a taste of his own fear. Looking back now, he was glad Mrs. Weasley had barged in like she had. He would like to think he wouldn’t have let things get too far, but arguably they had gone too far already, and he wasn’t certain that he would have been able to stop. Even now, with her parents in the room, he still wanted to kiss her, and definitely not just to comfort her. They’d dimmed the flame, but it was unquestionably still burning.

Molly sat on the cot facing her daughter and took Ginny’s free hand into her own and looked into her eyes.

“Oh, Ginny. I know, dear. Sometimes we aren’t as in control as we’d like to be.”

“Mum, you don’t understand. I wasn’t in control at all. It was like the thinking part of me had been completely erased. I never, we never would have done anything like that. Harry even keeps his shirt on when we’re swimming together in the pond.”

“I…Mum, I promise I’m not trying to get out of this, but…I think it was the bond,” Ginny said. “We can push emotions through to each other. Right now, Harry is sending me something that feels like calm and comfort and support, but this morning…he was being so sweet. He brought me flowers and told me he wanted to be the first to wish me a happy birthday. He was so gentlemanly that even when I invited him to snuggle under the covers with me, he insisted on lying on top of them instead. He gave me the sweetest kiss and, and I just wanted him to know how much I love him so I pushed all my love through. And–”

“That was love?” Harry interrupted as his eyes bore into Ginny’s. “You…you love me?”

Ginny blushed and smiled. “Yes, Harry,” she nearly whispered, “I’ve loved you for a very long while.”

“Can you…can you send it through again?”

“I’m not sure that would be wise, Harry,” Arthur said, but Ginny just nodded and smiled.

A smile grew on Harry’s face as his eyes darkened again. It was a feeling he’d felt before, many times before, and he realized now that it was that unidentifiably wonderful feeling he’d been getting from Ginny since the very beginning. He found the matching emotion inside himself and sent it back at her.

“Is it like this?” he asked, shyly.

Ginny gasped as she felt his love, pure and true and certain, flow through their bond. Mutely, with a tear in the corner of her eye, she nodded.

“Then I love you, too,” he said gently as he captured her in a kiss.

When their lips met, the fire inside them burned hotly and fiercely for a moment, and then centered over their hearts before fading into a warm hearth fire that was still sizable, but seemed much easier to control. Harry opened his eyes as they separated to see the dark brown of Ginny’s eyes fade into the depths as her normal, honey-brown color returned. They slowly pulled away from each other, her left hand still clasped tightly in his right as contented grins spread over both their faces. As they turned back towards Ginny’s parents, Molly let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hand.

Harry and Ginny’s smiles slipped off.

“Mum! We’re sorry, we got caught up in the moment and–”

“What is that on your chest, Harry?” Arthur interrupted.

Puzzled, Harry looked down at his still-bare chest and let out a gasp of his own. Just over his heart, where the scar from the locket horcrux used to be, there was now a strange pattern of lines in what appeared to be black ink. It was circular in the middle, with two pointed ovals on both sides, and a strange sort of curved diamond in the center of the circle.

“The Serch Bythol,” Molly whispered. She looked at her daughter. “Do you have one, too?”

Ginny pulled at the collar of her shirt and glanced down. Her hand flew to her mouth as she, too, gasped and nodded. Molly looked between the two of them, noting the confused and awed look on both their faces. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was certainly not what she expected her daughter to receive on her birthday.

“It’s a Serch Bythol,” Molly said, surprising them all again with her unexpected knowledge. “It’s an ancient and lesser-known Celtic symbol of everlasting love. It’s made of two triskeles back to back, representing two people coming together in body, mind, and soul. As the lines in the triskeles intersect, they form a perfect circle in the center, representing the eternal nature of the love these people share. The Serch Bythol was used in Druidic marriage ceremonies to symbolize a love that will never fade. The hem of my wedding dress was embroidered with dozens of them.”

“And now Harry and I each have one over our hearts.”

“It seems that you do.”

“Is it permanent?” Harry asked.

“I would imagine so.”

“If it’s used in marriage rituals, does that mean we’re…married?” Ginny asked uncertainly.

Molly sighed. “I don’t know, Ginny. In the traditional sense, no, I shouldn’t think so. As far as the bond is concerned, then perhaps you are. I don’t know what that means for you both legally. Arthur will have to check the records at the ministry to see if anything has changed, but whatever the case, it’s ultimately up to you two to decide how you think of yourselves. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Ginny and Harry looked at each other and a thought seemed to pass between them.

“I think, for now, maybe we should just carry on as if nothing has really changed. At least until we know if anything really has.”

Molly smiled. “I had hoped that’s what you would say. I’m not quite ready to lose my little girl just yet, not even to Harry Potter.”

Both women smiled before Ginny let out a very girly giggle.

“Stop it, Harry! That tickles!” Ginny squealed.

Harry looked up in shock.

“But I’m not even touching you!”

“What were you doing then?” she asked.

“I was tracing this mark. Do you know it goes on forever? There’s no beginning or end.”

Molly laughed, “Yes Harry. I believe that’s the point.”

“Er, right. So, anyway, I didn’t tickle you, Gin.”

“But you did! Right over my heart! Trace the line again,” Ginny commanded.

Harry did as he was told, and Ginny let out another girly giggle.

“Whoa,” Harry said. “That’s crazy! Does it work both ways?”

Ginny brushed a hand over the mark on her heart, and Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“I felt that!” He exclaimed. “Does it work anywhere else?”

Ginny rubbed her hand over her arm and looked at Harry questioningly. He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

Ginny smiled. “That’s probably for the best. I wasn’t keen on learning what it felt like to shave,” she quipped as she rubbed her jawline with a look of relief on her face.

Harry laughed as he thought of how strange it would be to feel Ginny brushing her hair or putting on makeup, not that Ginny wore makeup much, but he, too, felt rather relieved that he only seemed to be able to feel when she touched the Serch Bythol. It would make life much less complicated than it could have been.

Arthur cleared his throat and called the teens’ attention back to the adults.

“We still haven’t fully addressed the matter we were originally discussing. It’s my turn to have a say,” Arthur stated, bringing Harry and Ginny back to the original problem at hand and dropping the gleeful smiles from their faces.

“As I’ve told all my boys,” Arthur continued, “I trust that I raised them to make good decisions and to be respectful. I expect no less of you, Harry, and you, too, Ginny. I know that Bill and Fleur didn’t wait until they were married, and I rather suspect the rest of my boys haven’t either. I know what Ron and Hermione were up to before they left, and now they’re halfway across the world, by themselves, in one hotel room, despite what they would like us to believe. I’m not naïve. I also can’t hold you to a different standard just because you’re my daughter, Ginny. And besides that, if this Serch Bythol really does mean you’re married, then it’s all moot, anyway.

What I can ask, though, is that you wait until you’re both ready. If the bond really does control you that much, then don’t let yourselves get into situations where things could get out of hand. You’re both still so young, and based on your reactions this morning, neither of you is ready for this, yet. Married or not, this isn’t something you should rush into. You have plenty of years ahead of you for all of that.

Your mother and I won’t bother you about this again, as long as we are confident that you’re being responsible, but we also don’t want it flaunted in our faces. Be respectful with each other and respectful of our home and our boundaries. That’s all we ask.”

Ginny and Harry both nodded mutely, their faces, once again, an alarming shade of red.

“Now,” Arthur continued with a smile and a wink, “I think it’s time for both of you to get dressed and come downstairs. After all, we do have a birthday to celebrate.”

“Oh! My last baby is so grown up! I can’t believe it!” Molly wailed as she buried her face in Arthur’s chest.

“I know, dear, I know, come on, let’s go get the breakfast going.”

Molly immediately popped up and dashed to the kitchen, suddenly re-invigorated now that she had a task to complete. Arthur shook his head with a chuckle as he followed her down the stairs, leaving Harry and Ginny alone again in her room.

Harry turned to Ginny and opened his arms to her. She snuggled herself against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“We got out of that much more easily than I expected,” Harry said.

“I agree. This bond is coming in handy.”

“Well it’s certainly opened my eyes to some pretty wonderful things.”

They were quiet for a few moments before Harry broke the silence.

“So you love me, huh?” he asked her.

He felt, rather than saw Ginny’s smile.

“Mmmmm,” she replied. “I’ve loved you for absolute ages.”

“Ages?” Harry questioned.

“Eons,” she replied.

“Mmmmm,” Harry echoed her earlier sentiment. “Tell me again.”

Ginny turned around in his arms so she could look into his shining emerald eyes.

“I love you, Harry Potter,” she said, reverently.

“I love you, too, Ginny Weasley,” he replied.

He pushed his love through the bond and Ginny replied in kind as Harry bent his head down for a long, tender kiss. The hearth fire roared to life, but stayed contained, simply warming them, but not attempting to consume them.

The intentional clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen separated them with a laugh. Ginny hooked Harry’s shirt off the floor with her toes and flung it at his face, his Seeker reflexes catching the garment before it could impact.

Ginny sighed as he pulled his shirt back down over his head and Harry smirked at her.

“Admiring my body, Weasley?”

“No. Registering my disappointment at the lack of a Hungarian Horntail tattoo. Shame. I guess you aren’t the perfect man for me, after all.”

“Hmmm. No Hungarian Horntail. I do have this wicked Serch Bythol, though, but you’re not allowed to see it because apparently my chest isn’t good enough for you.”

Ginny sighed dramatically, “Oh well. At least I got my one good look. It’ll have to be enough, I suppose.”

Harry leaned in with a smirk and kissed her quickly on the lips before placing his mouth next to her ear.

“Maybe someday you’ll return the favor,” he whispered, before straightening up and sauntering out of her room, leaving a gobsmacked Ginny to pick her jaw up off the floor and get ready for the day.

It was only 8:57 in the morning, and already it was the best birthday she’d ever had.


	14. Chapter 14

It was a normal day at work, for Bill Weasley. After the war, he’d transferred to the main branch of Gringotts to be able to visit his family more often and stay a bit safer. He had Fleur to think about now, and, he hoped, little ones, someday soon. The work wasn’t quite as exciting as gallivanting around in Egypt, but it paid well and satisfied him for the time being.

Today’s first task, as it was every day, was to review the list of vaults and make any necessary changes. Some days there were no changes to be made, other days there were many. He was just about to consult his list when he was greeted by a familiar and welcome voice.

“Bill!”

He looked up and smiled.

“Charlie! What are you doing here?” Bill asked as he stepped out from behind his desk to greet his brother with a hug.

“Delivering your new dragon,” Charlie replied. “Plus, it’s Ginny’s birthday, today, and I thought I’d stop by the Burrow later and surprise her.”

“She’ll love that. Mum and Dad are organizing a big dinner this afternoon, so we can just go together. I’m calling it an early day, as soon as I get through this endless paperwork.”

“Excellent,” Charlie smiled. “Hey, you want to show me where this dragon is going to be living? I need to get it all set up down there. Whoever did it last time bunked it up and you ended up with a blind, scared, chained up dragon. Brutus, here, has been a good deal better trained and that sort of get up won’t be necessary. One rattle of those clankers and he’ll leave everyone alone.”

“Perfect.”

“It was easy, really. Brutus is quite the softie if you know how to handle him. But Bill,” Charlie turned serious, “if you hear of anything happening like what happened to that last dragon, I need to know immediately. I’m not sending another one just so it can be tortured to death.”

“Don’t worry about it, brother. The goblins have learned their lesson. Whatever you tell them to do, that’s what they’ll do. Come on, his lair will be right down here. I’ve had the boys carve out some ventilation shafts so he’ll get some good sunlight.”

“Isn’t that a security risk?” Charlie asked as they walked.

“It would be, if we didn’t have the best curse breakers in the world. When you know how to break a curse, making up a good new one is almost easy. Anyone who tried to get into Gringotts that way would end up very much worse for wear, and even if they did succeed, they’d be stuck in a dragon’s lair. Not a place I’d want to find myself.”

Charlie chuckled. “Too right. All right then, this looks perfect. I’ll get to work and bring Brutus in, then seal it back up. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours.”

“Perfect! Hopefully, I’ll be done by then and we can head over to Mum’s for dinner. I’m already getting hungry thinking about it.”

“I love being in Romania, but I really miss Mum’s cooking. Can’t wait.”

“Great. See you later. Yell if you need anything. Someone is bound to hear you eventually.”

“Comforting thought,” Charlie mumbled as Bill went back to his desk to complete his work.

Bill spent the majority of his time catching up on paperwork. That was one thing he didn’t think he’d ever get used to. Curse breaking required much more doing and much, much less filing. It was only as he was stacking up his papers for the day that he noticed the updated vaults list that he’d tossed aside when Charlie had arrived. There was only one entry for that day, and as he read it, his eyes widened and he yelled, “Charlie! You have to see this!” and ran off in search of his brother.

***************

It was a Tuesday like every other Tuesday at the Ministry. Percy was, as usual, sitting quietly behind his desk, working diligently to keep from getting behind. The clerks’ office was busy that day, as it had been every day since the war. Fighting a war and rebuilding a bureaucratic ministry required an obscene amount of paperwork. It seemed like you couldn’t even send an inter-office memo without documenting, in triplicate, of course, having sent it. And with the staff still so depleted, Percy was working rather harder than he had worked before the war.

Paperwork wasn’t technically what Percy had been hired to do. He was still the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, never mind that he had given his resignation to Thicknesse. He was now working under Kingsley, and already he found the man a far sight more capable than Fudge or Scrimgeour. In an effort to get the Minstry running as smoothly as possible, though, Kingsley had reassigned all his personal staff, except for Percy, to other departments to fill in the staffing holes left behind after the war. Percy had escaped reassignment only because he was the only one Kingsley knew, without a doubt, he could trust.

Percy’s luck had run out a month ago, though, when the trials had started and the acting head of the Clerical Department resigned under the added pressure of all the extra paperwork. The Minster had been frazzled, until Percy offered to step up and fill the role, temporarily of course, until the original department head, a muggleborn who’d fled during the war, could be located and brought back. An aid from the Auror’s office had been brought up to help the minister until Percy could return.

So, once again, Percy found himself sorting, stamping, and filing mountains of papers, while trying to sort through the incoming memos and send them where they needed to be. He was supposed to be reading them all carefully to ensure there weren’t any mistakes, and, though he prided himself on his extreme thoroughness, he had to admit he was more skimming than reading. Because of this, he’d developed quite an efficient rhythm. Pull, glance, stamp, stack. Pull, glance, stamp, stack. Pull, glance, stamp, stack.

It was about a quarter of the way down a new pile of papers that had been placed on his desk only moments before, that he glanced at something rather interesting. His rhythm paused as he picked up the document and read every single word. He made a copy of the paper and put it surreptitiously into his pocket.

“Simpson, you’re in charge! I’ll be back tomorrow,” he cried to the room at large, dropped his stamp, and walked out the door.

For the first time in his life, Percy Weasley was skiving.

****************

Arthur Weasley was enjoying his day off. Things were crazy at the Ministry, but Kingsley had insisted that he needed a day to celebrate with his daughter, and Arthur just hadn’t found it within him to argue. Birthdays were a special thing, especially considering how many people’s special days they wouldn’t be celebrating this year. But he banished all such thoughts aside and focused on cherishing his last moments with his little girl before she became a true witch.

It had been a rather quiet afternoon thus far, despite the rather hectic morning. They’d had a late-ish breakfast, then Harry and Ginny had lounged about the house most of the day, playing chess and exploding snap in the living room. In the last hour, they’d taken a walk through the garden to enjoy the summer sun for a bit. They’d been sure to make their route curve back near the house periodically to reassure Molly and Arthur that they weren’t continuing what they’d started this morning.

Ginny had insisted over breakfast that the fire that had swept them away seemed to have been contained after the marks had appeared. She and Harry were both quite confident that they would be able to control themselves, but Molly hadn’t felt quite comfortable enough yet to let them out of her sight. After watching them all day, though, she grudgingly allowed them to leave the house together for their garden walk, and if she spent a little more time glancing out the window to the back garden than she usually did, well, no one mentioned it.

It was now only about an hour before they’d expected the rest of the family to arrive and Arthur was busy setting up the tables in the back garden while Molly was finishing the dinner in the kitchen. Harry and Ginny had just appeared between the trees and he’d sent them inside to get ready and relax out of the heat.

Arthur was just putting the last table into its place when he heard two pops of apparition just outside the front gate. Cautiously, wand in hand, Arthur walked around the side of the house and smiled when he saw the telltale red ponytail that identified his oldest son, accompanied by the stocky ruggedness of his second oldest.

“Bill! You’re early!” He called. “And Charlie! What a pleasant surprise.”

“Afternoon, Dad,” Bill called. “Where’s Ginny?”

“Oh she’s up in her room getting ready. Should be down soon.”

Bill fidgeted nervously.

“I need to speak with her,” he said seriously.

“What’s this about?” Arthur questioned with a frown.

Bill pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Well,” he began, but was interrupted by another pop of apparition.

“Percy!” Arthur cried. “We weren’t expecting you until much later. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Never mind that, I had to come over straight away. Where’s Ginny?” Percy replied without preamble.

“She’s up in her room. We weren’t expecting anyone just yet. Percy, wait! Where are you going?” Arthur called out as his straight-laced son brushed past him and hurried towards the house.

“To speak to Ginny,” he replied tersely as he walked briskly across the lawn.

Bill and Charlie shared a look.

“I think we’ll join him,” Bill replied as he and Charlie set off at a jog to catch up with their younger brother.

Arthur followed behind, shouting after his sons to know what was going on.

“Percy! Bill! And oh, Charlie! I’m so glad to see you!” Molly exclaimed as they barged through the kitchen.

“Not now, Mum,” Percy quipped. Molly turned questioning eyes towards her husband, but all Arthur could offer was a shrug and a shake of the head. He and his wife followed their three oldest sons as they thundered up the stairs.

Ginny’s door was flung open as Percy barged into her room.

“Percy, haven’t you heard of knocking!” Ginny exclaimed as she threw her hands in the air, her blouse only half-buttoned. Ginny took in the sight of her three brothers standing in her doorway, her parents just appearing behind them, and exclaimed, “Oh! Charlie!” before dashing forward to give him a hug.

“Happy Birthday, Ginny-bean,” he said with a smile as he hugged her back. “Nice tattoo.” Ginny squealed as she hurriedly finished buttoning her shirt. “Is it new?”

“Er…yes. Very.”

“Wicked.”

“Charlie, Ginny’s tattoos are hardly the point. We have more important things to talk about,” Percy huffed pompously as he fished a folded-up parchment out of his pocket. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked imperiously as he handed the parchment over to his only sister.

Ginny scrunched up her face in confusion as she unfolded the parchment. Her eyes flew over the page as she took in every word, and, absentmindedly, she rubbed her hand over her heart as she scrutinized the document, her fear and nervousness plain on her face.

“Where did you get this?” she asked quietly.

“It came across my desk this morning. I can’t believe you would do something so foolish.”

“I-” Ginny was interrupted by a pop as Harry materialized in front of her, wand pointed at the shocked faces of her family in front of them.

He looked around for a moment, confused, before turning his head slightly towards Ginny and asking, “Are you okay? You seemed worried and then I felt…” he gestured towards his heart, indicating the Serch Bythol.

“I’m fine, Harry, you can put your wand down.”

Harry pocketed his wand as he turned fully to face Ginny.

“Then what’s the matter?”

In answer, she thrust the parchment into his hands. Harry read over it with furrowed brow before his eyebrows rose and he turned a questioning glance towards Ginny. Harry turned to look at Percy, a red blush coloring his cheeks as he wordlessly handed the document back over.

“So I take it you know what this means, Potter.” Percy spat.

“Er…yeah. I do. But it isn’t what you think.”

“It isn’t what I THINK? What else could it possibly be?” Percy asked incredulously.

Arthur had finally had enough.

“What are you on about, son? Let me see that paper.”

With a huff, Percy handed the paper to his father, who angled it so Molly could read. His eyebrows rose and silent tears fell down Molly’s face as they read. When they had both finished, he folded the parchment up, and handed it back to his middle son.

“Well, I suppose that answers that question, then, doesn’t it dear?” Arthur queried.

Molly nodded as she smiled gently at her daughter.

“What?” Percy exclaimed. “What question? Did you know about this?”

“Well, not exactly, but your mother suspected it may have been a possibility,” Arthur replied.

“And you just went along with it? Merlin, Dad, she just turned seventeen this morning! I can’t believe you’re being so calm about this. She’s ruined her life!”

Ginny’s anger flared red-hot.

“Ruined my life? Percy Weasley, I don’t know where you think you have the right to determine exactly when my life has been ruined, but I assure you, this is not that moment. Being married to Harry is a lovely, if a bit unexpected, birthday gift and–“

“Married!? Well that certainly explains this, then,” Bill interrupted as he removed a parchment from his own pocket. “It came through Gringotts this morning–authorization to key in another magical signature to one of the old vaults. Ginevra Molly Potter to the Potter family vault. I thought it was some kind of joke, but it’s nearly impossible to fool the Gringotts records. This solves the mystery. It still leaves me with a lot of questions, though. Like, how could you go off and get married, Gin? You’re only just seventeen!”

Ginny’s eyes flashed from Percy to Bill and Harry could feel her anger shift from the third brother to the first. Harry took her hand and he felt her soften a bit, but her eyes remained hard and blazing.

“Boys,” Arthur said commandingly as Ginny opened her mouth to speak again, “Why don’t we take this down to the kitchen. There’s something we need to explain to you.”

“I’ll go fetch George. He’ll want to hear this,” Molly said, wiping the tears from her cheeks and kissing her daughter on the head before walking up the stairs into George’s room, where he’d been holed up since returning from Diagon Alley a few hours ago.

Silently, The four Weasleys and two Potters traipsed down the stairs to the kitchen. They arranged themselves around the table, leaving a space for George and Molly. In a few silent minutes that felt like hours, they heard the sounds of two pairs of feet descending the stairs. As soon as George and Molly were seated, Arthur began to speak.

“Boys, you’ve always known your sister was a special girl, but she’s proven to be even more unique than we ever thought. She’s got a tale to tell that your mother and I believe and know to be true. Don’t interrupt, and don’t ask questions until she tells you to. Are we agreed?”

The four boys nodded their heads, though George looked a little skeptical about this whole adventure. Arthur looked to his daughter and gestured for her to begin.

Ginny took a deep breath, and Harry squeezed her hand and sent love and calm through their bond. It would do them no good for Ginny to fly off the handle, and his steady presence reminded her of that. Ginny looked up and met each of her brothers’ eyes before beginning.

“When I was a little girl, the only story I ever wanted you to tell me was of the famous Harry Potter. I swore to you that one day I would meet him, we’d fall madly in love, and I would marry him and live happily ever after. You laughed and made fun of me, and in time I came to understand why. It was a silly dream for a silly girl. These types of things don’t happen in real life…at least, not usually.”

“But then I did meet him. And he saved my life, so I owed him a life-debt. You know Aunt Muriel is always spouting about the old ways and old magics, and we always thought she was completely barmy, but she was right. I’m the seventh child and the seventh girl in a long line of Druidic women. That’s significant. Those magics turned my life-debt to Harry into something much deeper. It’s called a Druidic Soul Bond, and ever since I was eleven years old, I’ve held a part of Harry’s soul in the core of my own.”

She met Harry’s eyes and smiled a small smile before continuing.

“For years, nothing came of it except that I knew a little more about Harry’s moods and location. I could sense when he was upset or happy. I knew the exact moment he entered the room, even without looking. But when Harry went to fight Voldemort, he…he d-” Ginny took a shuddering breath and Harry squeezed her hand again.

“I died,” he said and the boys gasped. “There was a part of Voldemort’s soul in me and the only way to get rid of it was for me to sacrifice myself. So I did. But when I died I was given a choice. I could go on, accept my death and join my parents, Sirius, and everyone else, or I could come back, and only the part of me that belonged to Voldemort would truly die. I wanted to go on. It would have been easier to go on than to come back and deal with all the grief and guilt. But then I thought of Ginny, and I knew I couldn’t go on and leave her behind. So I came back. It was Ginny who saved my life.”

“And his life debt to me,” Ginny said shakily, “joined up with the Druidic Soul Bond already in place and connected him to me in the same way I was connected to him. It took a while before either of us recognized the signs, but what was once a one-way bond, has now become a reciprocated one. And it was even stronger than it was before. We’re bound to each other, and have been since May.”

“But this morning, something changed. I became of age, and something in the bond shifted. Things got…er…a little crazy,” Ginny blushed but continued on, “and then, quite by accident, I let it slip that I loved Harry, and he confessed that he loved me, too. And then...well, these tattoos formed, right over our hearts.” Ginny unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt to reveal the tattoo that sat a few inches below her left shoulder, just above the swell of her breast. “Mum says they’re called a Serch Bythol. It’s an ancient Celtic symbol representing eternal love that’s typically used in wedding ceremonies. And we felt the bond sort of…settle, I guess you could say. Mum said it might mean we were married, given the traditional meaning of the symbol, but we talked about it and decided we’d carry on as if we weren’t until we found out otherwise. Dad was going to check the records at the ministry tomorrow, but I guess we have our answer already.”

Ginny sighed.

“It’s unexpected, to be sure, and we’ve only just gotten back together and just confessed that we loved each other. Being married is…quite a shock. I’m just as surprised as you are, honestly. But we are married,” she squeezed Harry’s hand, “and there’s nothing we can do about it, nor do I think there’s anything I really want to do about it…except perhaps to talk to Harry, which I haven’t gotten to do, yet. So, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be out in the orchard for a bit. Mum and Dad can answer any questions you have until we get back.”

And with that, she stood, pulling Harry up with her, and the two newlyweds walked hand-in-hand out the back door into the orchard to have a much needed talk, leaving a pair of smiling, nervous parents and four dumb-founded brothers behind at the table.

*******************

They settled themselves behind a large tree, within shouting distance of the Burrow, but far enough away that they couldn’t be easily spied on. Ginny seated herself in a hollow between two roots, but Harry was too anxious to sit.

It had been a surprising day for Harry Potter, to be sure. What was meant to be a pleasant good morning for his lovely girlfriend turned into a heated, uncontrollable snogging session, followed by an intense and embarrassing talk from Ginny’s parents, culminating in a confession of love and a strange tattoo.

And now, he was married.

Admittedly, Harry had entertained the notion of spending the rest of his life with Ginny, and he knew, intellectually, that it would involve marrying her someday. But in his head, that someday was always vague and unsettled and definitely not today. Ginny was the only one for him, to be sure, but this wasn’t the way he’d envisioned their future.

He wasn’t an expert on these things, but Harry was pretty sure there was supposed to be a little more romance and candles and flowers. And rings. And a white dress.

Not a crazy tattoo shaped like some ancient eternity symbol.

And besides all that, Harry didn’t know the first thing about being married. If his aunt and uncle were anything to go by, Ginny would spend the rest of her life cooking his food and mating his socks while he went to work all day. Somehow, Ginny Weasley…er…Potter, future Harpies Quidditch star, didn’t seem like the kind who would be content to just sit at home and garden. In fact, he was fairly certain he remembered Ginny lamenting about her poor Herbology skills when they were back at Hogwarts. And he didn’t want to be waited on hand and foot like his oaf of an uncle was, anyway.

Then there were the practical concerns. Where would they live? How would they support themselves? Harry knew he had quite a bit of money, but exactly how much was still a mystery. He wasn’t ready to be married. He didn’t have his life together. He didn’t have a job. He didn’t have a house. He didn’t have a clue.

He’d been happy and relieved only a few hours ago, when they decided to carry on as if they weren’t married, when they decided to continue to be teenagers. Now he was completely panicked. He’d buried those feelings when they were inside, in order to present a strong, united front to her brothers, but now that they were alone, he wasn’t able to suppress them anymore.

“Harry,” Ginny whispered. “Come and sit with me.”

His eyes snapped to hers and he reluctantly sat, back ramrod straight, careful not to touch Ginny anywhere, lest she feel the full brunt of his apprehension. He was quite certain he wouldn’t be able to control it at all if she so much as breathed on him too heavily.

Ginny, however, wasn’t having any of it. She snuggled herself into his side and drew him into her.

“Let it out, love,” she whispered.

His fear and nervousness crashed over her like waves as he tried to pull away, but she just held on tighter and let her own fears and worries flow into him. She felt him take a ragged breath before he spoke in the most desperate whimper she’d ever heard.

“I’m so sorry.”


	15. Chapter 15

Ginevra Molly Weasley, no, Ginevra Molly Potter, otherwise known as Ginny Potter, Mrs. Harry Potter, Mrs. Harry James Potter, or simply, Ginny, wasn’t sure her life was real, anymore.

This morning, she woke up to her boyfriend bringing her flowers to wish her a happy birthday.

Now, she was married to that boy. In a moment, her life had changed forever.

And yet, nothing really was different.

She and Harry had sat in the orchard for ages and talked about what this meant for them. In time she knew they would see this for the gift it was, but for now, they were both too lost in shock and confusion to appreciate it. And perhaps what she was battling the most was the complete lack of control.

If there was one thing Ginny hated, it was being out of control.

And, of course, that was the thing Harry hated most, as well.

But they weren’t angry; they just felt a little cheated. Harry had apologized profusely for being unable to provide her with an authentic engagement and wedding. He felt like he’d somehow robbed her of those opportunities. For her part, Ginny had apologized for feeling like she wasn’t ready to be married, much as she loved him. Harry had merely looked at her incredulously and told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t prepared to be married either, so she had nothing to apologize for.

They’d hugged and cried and wondered about the future, but in the end, the solution had been simple.

Yes, they were married, but nothing had to change. There was no law that said they had to move out of the Burrow or suddenly start providing for themselves. They didn’t even have to tell anyone, if they didn’t want to–especially not the press–which relieved Harry to no end. By the time the sun had sunk behind the trees, they had agreed: they wouldn’t try to pretend like it never happened, but they would continue to take things at their own pace. When the time came, when they felt like they were ready, they’d have a ceremony with rings and dresses and fancy robes and everything else that every little girl, even Ginny, dreams of.

*******************

Harry and Ginny had just reentered the Burrow to find the table still occupied by her oldest brother, who was casually perusing a rather sizeable stack of documents. Upon hearing the back door open, he turned to address them.

“Harry, Ginny. Have a seat. I need to speak with you for a moment.”

They sat as Bill began sorting through the documents again.

“Er…listen, Bill,” Harry began.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Bill interrupted. “Mum explained it all to us while you were out back. I’m still not sure I’m happy about having my baby sister married off so soon, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t see it coming. Even without this bond, the two of you have something special, and I know you’ll take care of each other. That being said, what the boys and I told you earlier this summer still stands. You hurt her, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

Harry met Bill’s eyes and nodded once. He knew the eldest Weasley brother was serious, but he also knew Bill meant what he said about them being good for each other. Having that vote of confidence meant a lot to Harry.

“Now, back to business,” Bill continued as he pushed a small stack of papers in front of the two newlyweds, “I’m sorry to bring this to you so late, and after such an eventful day, but I’m afraid if we don’t get this taken care of immediately it’s going to come to someone else’s attention and you may be dealing with some unwanted publicity. I hope I’m not assuming too much in thinking you’ll want to keep this quiet for now.”

“No, you’re right. The longer we can keep this out of the Prophet, the better we’ll both feel,” Ginny said, “I guess this has something to do with Harry’s vault.”

“Yes, and the rest of his holdings, as well. Harry, have you ever been notified about the full inventory of your estate since coming of-age?”

“No. Never got around to it, what with chasing down Voldemort. Now…well, I rather imagine the goblins aren’t too chuffed to have me around, at the moment.”

Bill chuckled.

“No, they certainly aren’t. Another reason we need to do this tonight, so you won’t have to go into Gringotts. Right then! After I found out the truth about your marriage, I had Fleur run over and get some of your files for me. They’re not supposed to leave the office, strictly speaking, but the goblins are busy getting acquainted with their new dragon, so I doubt they’ll notice.”

“What I have here is a comprehensive list of all holdings, properties, investments, and interests belonging to a one Harry James Potter, and now, his wife, Ginevra Molly Potter. Ordinarily, this would have been presented to you over a year ago, but, obviously, things didn’t work out quite that way. You’ve had access to your trust vault for years, but the full Potter family vault is in a deeper level of Gringotts, and upon your seventeenth birthday, the contents of your trust vault were re-integrated into your family vault, and you were keyed into said vault. Here is the full balance of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in the Potter Family Vault.”

Bill indicated a number at the top of a column of figures on the right side of the page near the middle of the document. Harry’s eyes widened at the amount. It was more than he expected, and he and Ginny could certainly live comfortably on it for many years.

“What are all these other numbers,” Harry asked, pointing to the numbers beneath the account balance.

“Those are the approximate value of some of the items within the vault, including jewelry, weapons, stocks, bonds, artworks, and other miscellany. The value corresponds to the item over here on the left. The total net worth of all items contained within the vault is this number here,” he pointed to the bottom of the column, “but you have to understand that some of that money isn’t really usable, as some of the items would be difficult or impossible to sell.”

“I’m not interested in selling anything, anyway. Honestly, why would I need any more money than this?” Harry replied.

Bill chuckled.

“Your attitude is refreshing, Harry. Most of the vaults on this level belong to fairly wealthy families, but every time they come in they want to know why their wealth hasn’t increased more, or where they can get more money. Still, some of the items will sell and fetch quite a pretty penny if you ever need them to, and Gringotts is more than happy to assist with any sales…for a fee, of course.”

“Now,” Bill shuffled the papers and brought another to the top of the stack, “This is a list of properties in the Potter name. One, you know, is the house in Godric’s Hollow. In addition, there is also a moderately-sized home that belonged to your grandparents near Cambridge, a rowhouse in London, and a small cottage in northern Wales.”

“That many? What are we supposed to do with four houses?”

“Whatever you like, Harry. The Welsh cottage has been in your family for many generations, but could be rented out as a vacation home. The rowhouse would sell easily, I imagine, as well as the Cambridge house. I imagine you’ll want to keep the house in Godric’s Hollow, though, I’m sure, if you wanted, you could sell that one, too. For now, though, I advise just leaving them alone. They are fully paid for, after all, and you don’t want to go selling off all your houses until you figure out where you may want to live.”

“We were planning on staying at the Burrow, for a while, actually,” Ginny said.

Bill smiled.

“Mum will be happy to hear that. You are going to need somewhere to live eventually, though, and any of these homes would be a nice option. Now, there is one more matter we need to discuss.”

Bill shuffled the papers again, and put yet another on top of the pile.

“Harry, as one of the beneficiaries of Sirius’s will, you have ownership of Grimmauld Place, as well as all of Sirius’s possessions. This includes the Black Family Vault, one of the oldest and largest vaults in Gringotts. The protections on this vault are different from the protections on your Potter Family Vault. Because of this, we are unable to transfer anything from Sirius’s vault into yours. We can put the contents of the Potter vault into the Black vault if you so choose, or you can simply hold 2 vaults. You can withdraw from either vault at any time, of course, neither of these vaults have keys.”

“Er…keep them separate for now, I think. And what do you mean they don’t have keys?”

“Our older and larger vaults use magical signatures and blood identification to give you access to the vaults. The Potter Family Vault will recognize your blood and give you access, and once we key in Ginny’s signature she’ll have access to that vault as well. However, in order for her to have access to the Black Family Vault, you’ll need to sign over joint ownership on this form in front of you. Since Ginny wasn’t named in Sirius’s Will, even her marriage to you won’t override the protections of the Black Family Vault.”

“Er…just so we’re clear. What kind of protections are we talking about?”

“Traditional punishments include entrapment within the vault door until death, blood poisoning, noxious gas poisoning, being stripped of all magical power, extreme physical pain, complete memory wiping, and other such terrible consequences that I’m sure you don’t want Ginny to have to experience. And that’s to say nothing of what the Blacks may have added to the vault on their own.”

Harry shuddered.

“Right. How do I do it?”

“Simply place your wand on this paper and state that you give Ginny full access to the Black Family Vault and holdings. After that, I’ll get Ginny’s magical signature and key her in.”

Harry placed his wand on the parchment in front of him and stated, “I, Harry James Potter, give Ginevra Molly Potter full access to all contents of the Black Family Vault and holdings.”

Harry’s signature spread across the bottom of the page and Ginny’s name appeared next to Harry’s as a vault owner. Bill smiled.

“Excellent.”

He collected the papers in front of them and stacked them back up, leaving only a copy of the contents of the Potter and Black Family Vaults on Harry and Ginny’s side of the table. He then brought out a large, ornate skeleton key from the inside of his robe and placed it on the table in front of Ginny.

“Okay, since Harry is already an owner of an older vault, his magical signature is already on record. Mum and Dad’s vault uses a key, so we don’t have your signature on file, Ginny. What you need to do is fairly simple. Tap your wand to the key and state your name. I’ll take the key back to Gringotts tonight and you’ll have access to all Harry’s vaults by tomorrow morning.”

In the end, it took Ginny two attempts to key herself in, as she wasn’t yet used to her new name. Bill stood and tucked the key back into his robe pocket as he put all the papers back into the large folder. He turned and looked at his little sister and her new husband with a serious look on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry for the way I barged in earlier. I know that wasn’t the best way to greet my sister on her birthday. I understand now that you didn’t plan this, and I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel being thrust into this without any knowledge. I knew I was in love with Fleur long before I asked her to marry me, but even then, when the time finally came I still didn’t feel completely ready. But I meant what I said earlier. I do think you’ll be good for each other, so long as you continue to take care of each other like you have been. But, don’t forget, you’re both still young. There’s no reason to rush things, married or not.”

Ginny and Harry both blushed, but assured Bill that they’d continue to take things slow. Then, with hugs, and a whoosh of green flames, Bill was gone.

************************************

Percy Weasley was a very simple man. He liked simple food, simple life, and a simple job. Growing up Weasley meant that his life was rarely, if ever, simple, especially in recent years, but even that couldn’t have prepared him for the complicated and entirely unusual day he’d just had.

His sister was involved in an ancient and largely unknown ritual of some sort and was now married and bonded to, who else, Harry Potter.

Percy had had his issues with Harry in the past, though that had been largely his own inability to see the truth and nothing Harry had actually done. Still, the boy had an uncanny ability to attract danger and Percy wasn’t entirely sure that he was the best match for his young sister.

But, there was nothing to do about it now, and Percy had learned the hard way that picking unwinnable fights with his family wasn’t worth it. So, he supposed, the best thing to do now would be to support them in any way he could, and the first and largest of those ways would be to keep all this out of the Prophet for as long as possible.

That’s how Percy Weasley found himself wandering through the filing room late in the evening, filing away all the evidence of his sister’s marriage before it could be seen by a gossipy ministry employee.

What Percy was doing was completely legal. He’d made all the necessary changes to all the necessary ledgers and he was filing everything away in exactly the place it was meant to go. He couldn’t truly hide anything, but he was hoping the flood of paperwork everyone had been under would keep anyone from noticing for a while.

He had just closed the door on the last filing cabinet when he heard a rustle of papers behind him. He turned to greet the intruder at wandpoint, but bumped against the cabinet next to him and crashed ungracefully to the floor.

Percy heard a girlish squeak and the rustle of papers as he groaned and picked himself up off the floor.

“Here, let me help you,” the woman said as she extended a now-empty hand to him, her papers sitting neatly on the table.

“Thank you. I’m terribly sorry. Can’t be too careful these days, but I’m afraid I’ve never been particularly skilled at dueling.”

“Probably for the best. It might be you helping me off the floor if you were,” she replied with a smile, turning to pick up the large pile of papers off the table, wrestling them into her hands.

“Here, let me get some of those. It’s the least I can do after trying to hex you.”

“Well, thanks. But the way I see it, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. It was you who was on the floor just now, after all.”

“Yes, well if you don’t want my help, then…”

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry! I’d love your help! I’ll be here all night and I really wasn’t looking forward to that. I was only teasing.”

Percy chuckled.

“So was I.”

Percy met the woman’s eyes with a smile as he took the majority of the papers from her hands.

“I’m Percy Weasley, by the way.”

“Weasley? Like Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes? That clever shop in Diagon Alley?”

“Er…not quite. That’s my younger brothers, actually, Fred and George. Only it’s just George, now.”

“Well, what happened to Fred?”

“He was killed.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t think. What a horrible loss. It’s just…well, you did joke with me a moment ago, so I thought, maybe you had something to do with that joke shop. It’s such a lovely place.”

“Oh, that was a sorry attempt at a joke, but I am trying to get better at it, for Fred. He always wanted me to lighten up, so I’m giving it a shot. Of course, here I am, standing in the middle of the records room at the Ministry at nearly ten o’clock at night, talking to a lovely woman about my dead brother. I seem to have missed the mark a bit.”

The woman blushed. “Well, we can’t all be funny, can we? There’d be no one to laugh at the jokes. But I thought it was clever, anyway. You certainly had me going. And I’m glad you’re here, otherwise I’d be doing all this filing myself.”

“Speaking of that, why are you here all by yourself so late at night?” Percy queried as he began dropping the papers neatly into their appropriate cabinets.

“Well,” she replied as she, too, set about her filing, “It was supposed to be my day off, actually, but Patricia, my neighbor who also works here, her daughter was sick this morning so I said I’d come in for her. Then the supervisor, which, actually, that's you isn't it? Well, you left early, and Edwin ducked out after lunch. Then, at about three, just as I was packing up to go home, Alice, from the DMLE, came in with a whole stack of court records from all those trials they’ve been holding, and since they’re court records, you know, they had to get into the files tonight, before we could close up the office. Well, there were only a half dozen of us left, so we did our best, but most of them have families, so they had to leave in time for supper. In the end it was just Joann and I, and once we finally got them all sorted and stamped, I told her I’d file them so she could go home. So, I came down here, found you trying to hex me from the floor, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Why are you here?” she asked. “You went home sick today.”

“Yes, well, I’m feeling fine, now, and I didn’t like leaving my filing for someone else to do, so, here I am,” Percy fibbed, nervously.

“Well you’ve got more dedication that I have. I’d’ve left it till morning. But then, I suppose that sounds rather hypocritical coming from the one who stayed at work in the clerks’ office until ten. Is it really nearly ten, by the way?”

Percy nodded.

“Merlin,” she replied with a sigh, “I’ve been here for better than half the day. I really must get a social life. Say, are you interested in having a drink sometime?”

Percy gave a start and nearly dropped his file on the floor.

“Me?”

“Well, why not? I have to get a social life, and clearly, so do you, so we might as well have a drink together and kill two birds with one stone, as the Muggles say. Besides, I’ve rather liked our conversation, haven’t you?”

“Well yes, but–“

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m being too pushy. We’ve only just met, and I suppose I’m coming on a bit strong aren’t I? Only, it’s that I truly have enjoyed our conversation, and I think I’d like to talk to you again, sometime.”

Percy was flabbergasted. This woman who, he had to admit, was rather attractive, if a bit chatty, had just asked him out for a drink. Percy hadn’t had many dates since Hogwarts, but going out for drinks typically counted as a date, in his experience, and he was stunned that she was at all interested in such a thing.

Was he? She was attractive, yes, but her propensity for spouting whatever was on her mind was a bit off-putting, but also somehow endearing. She clearly valued her job, and was a hard worker, which was important to Percy, and she also seemed to value family time, as she allowed her coworkers to leave before her so they could spend time with their children.

Of course, a relationship right now would greatly complicate his already too complicated life. But maybe a little complication could make life more interesting.

Oh, sod it.

“I think I’d like that,” Percy replied.

The vulnerable nervousness that her face had previously displayed turned into a happy, charismatic smile.

“Wonderful. Shall we say, Friday, after work? I get off at five on Friday, and I think it’ll be a good way to end the workweek. There’s a Muggle pub near my house that has fantastic chips.”

“Sure, that sounds fine. I’ll meet you in the Atrium at five-fifteen?”

“Sounds perfect,” she said with a smile.

They looked around the filing room. Everything was in order. All the drawers were closed, and the piles of papers they’d been carrying around had been put in their proper place.

“Well, it looks like we’re done here. Patricia will be wondering where I am, probably. I’m never out this late. I should probably get home.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Percy replied. “Early morning tomorrow, and all that.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So, I’ll see you Friday, then?” she asked, nervously.

“Of course. Five-fifteen in the Atrium.”

“Right. Bye then, Percy.”

“Goodbye…er, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but, did you ever tell me your name?”

“Oh! I don’t think I did, actually. Got distracted by that Weasley thing. So sorry. Look at me, I’ve gone and made a date with you, and I haven’t even told you my name. What a mess you must think I am. Honestly, I’m usually not like this. Let me try this again.”

She straightened her shoulders and held out her hand, which Percy grasped in his own.

She gave his hand a firm shake, before stating in an oddly serious voice, “Good evening, Percy Weasley. My name is Audrey O’Hannan.”

Percy smiled back at her.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Audrey.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I can’t believe you would even consider something like this, Ginny!” Molly Weasley screamed at her daughter across the kitchen table. “Don’t you know how dangerous this is? And what about your education? What are you going to do without your NEWTs?”

“Play Quidditch, obviously!” Ginny shouted back. “I’m doing this, Mum! I can’t believe I even got this opportunity! There’s no way I could pass this up! It’s the Harpies, Mum! You know I’ve wanted to play for them my whole life! You thought it was a brilliant idea!”

“Certainly, when you were a young girl! I thought it was a silly fantasy you’d grow out of! How was I supposed to know you’d throw your life away in pursuit of such an outlandish dream? Arthur! Tell her she can’t do this!”

Arthur Weasley stood sheepishly in the corner, trying to stay out of this fight as much as possible. Secretly, he was interested in seeing how Ginny would do at tryouts. He was the only one that knew she’d been stealing the boys’ brooms for years before she even went to Hogwarts.

This whole fight had started during breakfast when an unfamiliar owl flew to the window with a letter addressed to Harry. They stared at the owl in awe. The minister had personally been screening all of Harry’s mail since the battle, and this was the first piece that had gotten through. It had all of their attention immediately.

Harry had pulled the letter off the owls leg, and opened it, chuckling, as he handed the inside envelope to an intrigued Ginny.

“Here, it’s for you.” He’d said. “Apparently the owl couldn’t find Ginny Weasley, probably because you aren’t a Weasley, anymore, so when it was returned, they sent it to me.”

“How’d they know I’d be with you?” Ginny had asked.

“Errr…just open it,” Harry replied as he scratched the back of his head. “It was supposed to be a birthday gift.”

Ginny had smiled and opened the letter without further questioning. Her eyes flew quickly across the green paper and she squealed excitedly, before throwing herself across Harry and kissing him soundly, despite her parents’ presence in the room. When Molly reached over to read whatever had made her daughter so excited, the mood rapidly changed from elated to fuming. This was where they now found themselves.

“Er…well, it will be quite dangerous, Ginny. And you’ll be away from home a lot,” Arthur said, in defense of his wife.

“Right!” Molly agreed. “What about being home with Harry, where you belong? Don’t you want to make a good home for him? You can’t do that if you’re off gallivanting around the country on a broom! What about children?”

“What about children, Mum? Harry and I only just got married, and quite by accident, if you remember. We certainly aren’t ready to have children, yet! It’s the perfect time for me to play Quidditch!”

“Alright, so no children. But you still need to make a home for your husband! You can’t go on living here forever, you know!”

“If you’re asking us to leave, then we will. It isn’t like we don’t have other houses to live in, apparently! But I’m doing this, Mum. That’s that. And Harry agrees with me.”

All eyes turned to Harry, who had been standing supportively behind his wife, silent until this point. But Ginny could feel that he was itching to say something.

“Harry? You agree with this? What about her safety?” Molly questioned.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking, trying to make sense of all the swirling anger and frustration building inside both him and Ginny. When he opened them, the emerald depths shone with a fire that many would fear.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I owe both of you a lot for all the things you’ve done for me over the years. But in this case, I fully support Ginny, and not just because we’re married now. If you recall, I arranged this for her as a gift. I used my name in ways I never have before to get her an invitation to this try-out. I am aware of the dangers, and when Ginny first told me this was what she wanted to do, I admit to being a bit afraid for her. Injuries happen all the time in professional Quidditch, and I never want to see her hurt. But I also know that she can take care of herself, and I think you know that, too.

I also want to make something very clear. I don’t expect Ginny to stay home and keep house for me. I can respect that decision, and know it’s what many women choose to do, but it isn’t right for Ginny or for me. I can’t imagine Ginny being fully content with that life, and I would never expect her to give up her dreams for me. If this is what Ginny Potter, my wife and the woman I love, wants to do, then I will do everything I can to make sure she gets an opportunity to do it.”

Molly was astonished to see those bright green eyes blazing at her. She’d heard people marvel at Harry’s leadership and even the boys said he could be a bit scary, but she’d never seen it before. But now, the look in his emerald orbs was one Molly Weasley would never forget.

He deeply loved her daughter. She could see that easily in the way he stood resolutely beside her, her hand clutched tightly in his. He also, as Molly was just now realizing, would do absolutely anything to make her happy, even going against the only people he had ever considered family. She could see the desperate hope behind his eyes, and the apology that his actions had caused such strife between mother and daughter, but she also saw the blazing determination that let Molly know he would never back down from this fight.

She sighed and turned towards her daughter.

“But what about your education? Can’t I at least convince you to wait a year and get your NEWTs? You can’t play Quidditch forever, and you’ll need some qualifications to get a job after. Just go back to Hogwarts for this last year. You and Harry can go together!”

Molly somehow knew she’d said something wrong. Both teens stiffened and their hands gripped each other more tightly.

“Mum. Surely you must know we, neither of us, could ever possibly go back there. Not after all this,” Ginny replied in a quiet, stony voice. Her eyes had taken on a haunted look, and she could see Harry’s free hand beginning to shake.

“This last year wasn’t exactly easy for me, and neither Harry nor I can walk those halls again so soon and see the places where our friends were hurt. Fr-Fred was killed near Gryffindor tower. You can’t honestly expect me to walk past that spot every day and just…go on with my life as if nothing had happened, can you? No matter what I choose to do, Mum, Quidditch or no Quidditch, I’m never going back to Hogwarts. And I can assure you, Harry feels much the same way.”

“Then what are you going to do? Especially you, Harry, how do you expect to get a job without NEWTs?”

Harry dropped his eyes and scratched the back of his neck nervously. Ginny could feel his apprehension across their bond, and squeezed his hand.

“It doesn’t matter to me what Harry decides to do, Mum. We have plenty of money for the time being, and he’s only just defeated the most evil wizard of our time. We have loads of time to figure it all out later. But for now, know that Harry and I will be going to the Harpies tryouts on Saturday. Can you at least be happy I’ve been given the opportunity to chase my dreams?”

“Oh, Ginny,” Molly said, “it certainly isn’t what I had planned for you, but, then, you’ve done nothing but surprise us at every turn. We’ll be happy for you, but if I hear of you getting a single scratch at these tryouts, I can’t promise to be thrilled about it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother.

“I suppose that’s good enough,” she replied with a smile.

************

Harry and Ginny lay together under their favorite tree in the backyard of the Burrow on Friday afternoon. Ginny had owled back her acceptance of the invitation yesterday afternoon, and they’d received all the logistical details just a few hours later. Check-in would begin this evening at 6, and Ginny was allowed to bring one guest. Naturally, she’d immediately invited Harry, who had agreed without question. They’d already gathered what few things they’d need and were simply waiting for their portkey to activate in a few short minutes.

Molly had fed them an enormous meal, and had shoved more food than was entirely appropriate for a weekend trip into their travel bags. There’d been a slightly awkward conversation following that about their lodging situation, which neither Harry nor Ginny had clear answers to. The informational packet had said they’d be staying in the Harpies Guest Lodge, but what the room itself would look like, specifically the number of beds, was an unknown.

Despite their new marital status, Harry and Ginny had maintained their own rooms. While it was certainly true that they each felt a bit more freedom to enter the other’s room over the last few days, they always went to sleep in their own beds.

However, they’d also noticed that they hadn’t been sleeping particularly well, and while they were both adept at working with little sleep, given their experiences over the past year, the fatigue was beginning to show. Harry and Ginny were both hoping they could figure out the cause of the disturbance before it became too much of a problem. One thing that seemed to rejuvenate the couple was just relaxing together, so their afternoon jaunts through the garden had become afternoon rests, or as was typically the case, naps.

Harry glanced at his watch and sighed, picking himself up off the ground and lifting a hand to help Ginny up as well. They meandered back to the Burrow and found Molly and Arthur sitting at the kitchen table, Ginny and Harry’s bags on the floor next to them.

“Time to go, dears?” Molly asked.

“Almost,” Harry answered.

“Well, good luck to you then. Stay out of trouble, and owl us when you get there so we’ll know you’re safe.”

“Yes, mum,” Ginny answered.

Both Harry and Ginny were given Molly Weasley’s infamous bone-crushing hugs, before Arthur held his hand out to Harry.

“Son, take care of her. Make sure she doesn’t get too beat up out there,” Arthur instructed as he shook Harry’s hand.

“I will, sir.”

“And Ginny,” Arthur said, turning to his daughter, “show them what you’ve got,” he said with a smile, eyes twinkling. “Nobody deserves this more than you, Princess, and don’t you let them forget it.”

Ginny smiled as she hugged her father.

“You got it, Dad.”

“Gin,” Harry said as the gilded green invitation on the table began to glow blue. “It’s time.”

“Right then! Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad! I’ll see you soon!”

“We love you!” both Weasley’s chorused as their daughter and son-in-law grabbed their bags and put their hands on the invitation. In a flash of blue light, they were gone.

************

Harry and Ginny arrived in Holyhead in a tangle of limbs and bags.

“Merlin, Harry,” Ginny complained as they untangled themselves, “I think you’re even worse at portkeys than you are at floo travel!”

“And now you know why I always apparate,” Harry replied grumpily. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, tenderly.

“No, love,” Ginny said as she offered a hand to help him up off the ground, “I’m fine. Now, where do you suppose we are?”

“You are in the foyer of the Holyhead Harpies Guest House,” said a pleasant female voice from behind them. “Welcome to tryouts.”

“Oh! Er, thanks! Sorry about that entrance, it seems portkey travel doesn’t exactly agree with us,” Ginny replied with an embarrassed flush.

“Oh, don’t bother about that. My boyfriend is a muggle-born. He’s rubbish with portkeys, too. Now, come on up to the table, here so we can get you signed in before the others arrive. We scheduled your portkey to arrive about thirty minutes before everyone else’s. The press hasn’t even arrived yet. Gwenog seemed to think you’d appreciate the privacy.”

“Yes, thank you, but erm, why did she think we’d need it?”

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, that’s Harry Potter there with you, am I correct? Well, as we’re a professional team, we can’t keep the press out of such an important tryout, even if it is just tryouts for reserves, and the two of you are likely to draw a lot of attention. Gwenog was under the impression that your guest would rather avoid such a show. We’ve arranged it so that your suite is in a more private area of the house, and you have a private, warded balcony with a viewing station where Mr. Potter can watch the events tomorrow without ever having to leave the house.”

“Wow,” Harry said. “Thanks. How’d you manage all this? Do I owe you any money for your troubles?”

“Oh, no, it was no trouble. When the Minister screened the letter Gwenog sent you, he contacted her about increasing security measures for you. He had a team of Aurors out here all morning placing extra wards and securing the area for you both. Now, the others will be arriving very shortly, so we need to get all these forms signed before they get here. My name is Monica, by the way. I’m one of the team managers. We’re glad you could make it.”

“We’re glad to be here,” Ginny said with a smile.


	17. Chapter 17

Ginny and Harry surveyed their assigned room in awe. It was spacious and warm, decorated in the lush Holyhead green and gold. The suite opened into a large sitting room furnished with plush couches and chairs, as well as a small dining table near what appeared to be a very small kitchen. The door to the right led to a lavish bathroom with a glass-enclosed shower and a large claw-foot tub. The green and gold towels were stacked neatly on a shelf near the toilet, and above the sink was a large, lighted mirror.

The door to the left opened into the bedroom of the suite. Harry and Ginny were nervous to see that there was only one room, but breathed a sigh of relief when the room contained two large beds, each draped in a fluffy green comforter with plenty of golden pillows.

Harry walked into the room, dropping his bag on the bed near the door, and Ginny’s on the one near the window. Ginny could feel his relief at the two beds mingling with her own, but also with a touch of disappointment, and busied herself unpacking her clothes and gear while she puzzled it out. After closing the last drawer, she turned towards her husband.

“Are you disappointed that we’re in separate beds?” she asked, shyly.

Harry’s head snapped around as he closed the drawer he’d been stowing his shorts in.

“No. Why?”

“You feel disappointed,” Ginny said as she rubbed a hand over her shirt, exactly over the place where her Serch Bythol was, indicating their bond.

Harry sighed.

“Maybe a little,” he confessed with a blush. “It’s not that I want us to rush into things, it’s just that I feel so much more comfortable when we’re together. I don’t know, Gin. I was scared, before we came in here that there’d only be one bed, and now that there’s two, my emotions are mixed.”

“Well, we don’t have to use both of them,” Ginny stated, her deep blush rushing up the sides of her face, “if you don’t want to.”

Harry must have felt her discomfort, however, as he stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

“Gin, I can see from the look on your face that you aren’t ready to share my bed, and that’s fine with me. We’re still young! We’ve technically only been back together for a handful of weeks, and married for a couple days, which we weren’t exactly planning for, anyway. We’ll use the two beds. It doesn’t bother me. Really.”

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief she didn’t know she was holding. Harry’s ready acceptance of her always made her feel so special, and this time was no different. Sure, they were two newlyweds, technically, but they both felt a bit like they were still starting out. The fact that Harry wanted her in his bed was certainly new, and Ginny had to confess to a bit of longing for that as well, but she just wasn’t sure she could trust herself if they became that close, even if their intent was truly to sleep. Their encounter on the morning of her birthday hadn’t been repeated, but it had scared her enough to know that she couldn’t be trusted where Harry was involved.

She smiled up at him and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Anything for you, Gin. Now, I want to see this balcony. I’ll miss being able to be there with you, but I’m glad I won’t have to worry about being recognized.”

“Mmmm, yes. Kingsley did us a huge favor. And what were we thinking, anyway, bringing you to such a public event? Neither of us even considered the press, did we?”

“Well, I did bring my cloak, but I think that was more out of habit and paranoia. I’m going to have to remember that I can’t just appear places, anymore.”

“We both are, Harry. We Weasleys are fairly well known ourselves. This will be an interested weekend, that’s for sure.”

“’We Weasleys’?” Harry said with a smirk. “Who are these ‘we Weasleys’? I only see Potters around here.”

“Oh, shut it you,” Ginny said with a lighthearted slap to Harry’s chest. “You know what I meant. And besides, we don’t want anyone getting wind of my new name, now do we?”

Harry sighed. “I suppose not. At least not yet. But I do have to confess that hearing the name Ginny Potter is very sexy.”

“Sexy, is it? Hmmmmm. I’ll have to remember that. So, husband, what should we do with our evening? Monica said dinner would be delivered at seven. By my calculations that leaves us…" she checked her watch, "over an hour to ourselves.”

“Really?” Harry said, pulling her close to him.

“Mmhmm,” Ginny hummed as she stepped into his chest, lifting her face to meet his. “Imagine what we could do with all that time.”

“I can do better than imagine,” Harry whispered against her lips, before capturing them with his own. He placed one hand at the small of her back, bringing her closer and lifting her a bit as his other hand tangled into the hair at the nape of her neck. The fire in his chest was roaring at the contact, warming him as only Ginny could.

Ginny’s shirt rode up as she reached up to wrap her arms around Harry’s neck, and suddenly his hand was on the bare skin of her back. She shivered at the feel of his strong hands against her back. It wasn’t the first time Harry’s hand had been under her shirt, but it very nearly was. Even at Hogwarts, Harry was the ultimate gentleman. He had only had his hands on her back once before, and only at the arch, where her shirt was likely to ride up during their more heated snog sessions. This was the first time since her birthday that they’d had skin-on-skin contact, and Ginny relished every second.

Harry hadn’t intended to be so forward, especially after their conversation of moments ago, but as soon as his hand ghosted over her smooth skin, he knew he’d be unable to return it to the safety of her clothed back. Ginny didn’t seem to mind, and in fact and let out an almost inaudible moan at the contact, encouraging Harry to draw her in close and slide his hand a bit higher, rather than move it away.

Kissing Ginny was always the highlight of his day. They’d made a point of having at least a goodnight kiss every day, and often much more than that. They claimed it was because they didn’t want to be keeping each other awake with any unresolved tension, but they both knew that the excuse was feeble, at best. In truth, Harry and Ginny just liked kissing each other, and as long as they kept things under control, they found no problem with it.

That didn’t mean that Harry wasn’t growing tired of standing with her, and, if he were honest with himself, Ginny always made him a bit weak at the knees. Slowly, he stepped backwards until his legs encountered the edge of a patio chair he’d seen earlier, and gently, he and Ginny fell backwards onto the cushioned surface.

Ginny smiled into his kiss as she arranged herself half on top of him, snuggled partly into his side, her hand splayed across his chest. Carefully, she began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt.

“Gin,” Harry cautioned, pulling away from her slightly.

“Relax, Harry,” she soothed, slipping her hand inside the opening of his shirt to rest above his heart, where she instinctively knew his bond mark was. She could feel the warmth of her hand on her own mark, but she could also feel the way it was affecting Harry.

He had closed his eyes, and leaned his head on the back of the reclined seat, a small smile on his face. Unknowingly, he began to trace the symbol onto the small of her back, where his hand still rested on her skin. She could feel the love radiating from him as he pulled her in closer and placed a slow, tender, passion-filled kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she responded, just as quietly.

And snuggled like that, one of her legs wrapped up with one of his, curled into his side, her head resting just below his chin, they lay together and watched the sun slowly sink behind the hills of Holyhead, Harry still tracing patterns on her back and occasionally pressing tender kisses to her head, lips, or hands. Neither of them could have asked for a better end to their day.

*************************

Ginny lay in bed, awake, just as she had done every night since her birthday. She knew she needed sleep for the trials tomorrow, but she also knew that nothing would make her comfortable enough to drift off. Harry was awake, too, she knew. She could hear him occasionally tossing and turning, moving the pillows on his bed, trying to get comfortable. His frustration mingled with hers through their bond.

It didn’t make any sense. She’s slept just fine with Harry on the balcony earlier that evening. In fact, they’d both drifted off together for a couple hours, despite the fact that they’d napped in the orchard at the Burrow earlier that same day. They were rudely awoken long after the stars had emerged by an enthusiastic, and from the sound of it, totally drunk, prospective Harpy on a lower floor. She’d opened her window and the sound of her and her roommates’ loud laughter had floated up to them, disturbing their peaceful sleep.

They’d returned to find their dinner had long ago been delivered, but had a thoughtfully placed warming charm still keeping it fresh. After their quick supper, they’d returned to their room to sleep, but, tired as she was, sleep had not come easily for Ginny.

She’d thought it was nerves, and had done everything she could to relax her mind, but nothing had seemed to help. It was like her bed just didn’t fit her properly. It didn’t feel right. It seemed the only times she ever slept these days she wasn’t even in a bed, but rather under a tree, on a couch, or in a chair with Harry. Even now she’d rolled to the side of the bed closest to him, and she could see one of his legs hanging off the side of the bed nearest her.

And then, suddenly, she understood. She was being so ridiculous about this.

Ginny threw back her covers and walked around to the other side of Harry’s bed. His curious eyes followed her as he gave up the charade of sleep, intrigued by her actions. Eyebrows raised, Harry watched as she pulled up the covers on his bed and slid in next to him, arranging the pillows as she liked them, and sliding her arm over his chest.

“Gin?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep, Harry,” she replied tetchily.

“Well, neither can I, but what does that have to do with you being in my bed? I thought we agreed we didn’t have to do this.”

“Well our agreement doesn’t matter anymore. I realized I’m being stupid about this. It’s painfully obvious that I can’t sleep without you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed? We sleep just fine when we’re together. Mum’s been raving on about how we must be exhausted, we’re sleeping so much during the day. But at night, neither of us gets a wink. It’s because we’re not together. I guess, when the bond shifted, it requires us to sleep together…like, actually sleep. I don’t know exactly. But I know that I feel a thousand times more comfortable here, in your bed, next to you, than I felt in my own.”

“Well, I’m certainly not complaining about having you in my arms, but I don’t want to force this on you, even if it’s the bond doing the forcing. I don’t like how it seems to make decisions for us.”

“I don’t think it makes them for us, exactly,” Ginny said, thoughtfully. “I think it just sort of…pushes us in the right direction faster than we would on our own. I’ve been a silly little girl about sharing your bed because I didn’t trust myself, but I wasn’t giving you enough credit. I know you’d never do something you knew I didn’t want you to do, so I know we’ll be able to sleep here, just sleep, and not have to worry about getting too far ahead of ourselves. Would I have slept in your bed eventually? Probably. But the bond isn’t waiting for me to figure it out on my own, it’s showing me what the right path is, now.”

“You give me too much credit, I think, but I’ll do my best to keep myself under control.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry. You’ve got a thousand times more control than I have. I’ve never met an eighteen-year-old with the kind of restraint you have. You respect me, and that’s all I need.”

“Well, you can trust me not to try anything tonight, at least, because now that you’re here, I’m suddenly realizing exactly how knack-knackered I am,” Harry said through a yawn. “Come here.”

Harry beckoned her closer into his arms as he rolled onto his side for sleep, draping one arm over her stomach and pulling her back against his chest. Ginny snuggled into his embrace, tucking her head below his chin, and wrapping her arm around his.

“I love you,” Harry said, as he dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head.

“Love you, too. ‘Night.”

“’Night.”

And with that, the two fell into the best night of sleep either of them had experienced in their entire lives.


	18. Chapter 18

The morning had come far too early for both Harry and Ginny. Their breakfast had been delivered at 5, and after eating and getting dressed, Ginny had tromped out to the practice pitch, broom in hand, and Harry had trudged back into the bedroom. The contented stillness she felt across their bond confirmed that he’d fallen back asleep while he still could. Cheeky husband.

Ginny stifled a yawn as she looked around at the bleary faces around her. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one not used to waking up before the sun. There appeared to be about twenty or thirty other girls, huddled in small groups near the entrance. She couldn’t be sure, but Ginny appeared to be the youngest.

Scanning the faces, Ginny was mildly surprised to realize that she recognized none of them. Not that she’d expected any of her Hogwarts friends to be there, but she had thought maybe one of the older Chasers would give it a go, Angelina or Katie, perhaps. She was even further shocked to realize that not all the girls were even British. There were three girls in the corner chattering in French, four or five to her left muttering in what Ginny could barely recognize to be German, and a small gaggle of young ladies slightly in front of her conversing in what Ginny could only guess to be some sort of Slavic language, or possibly Russian.

A series of strong footsteps sounded behind her, and Ginny turned to see three young women, bedecked in Harpies Green, striding towards their group. The leftmost had a whistle in her mouth, which she blew shrilly as she approached the group.

“All right! Good morning, hopeful Harpies! Welcome to the beginning of the most grueling day of your life. I hope you’ve come prepared. In case you don’t know, in which case, you’re probably in the wrong place, my name is Bridget Matheson, Head Chaser, and this is Lena Orlek and Kelly Harrison,” each girl gave a small wave as her name was called, “also Chasers. As you can see, you won’t be filling a starting spot, as there’s no way you can compare to either of these talented women, but Kelly here is starting to talk about babies, heaven help her, and when Amanda moves up from the Reserves, we’ll need a new Reserve Chaser. You won’t be starting. In fact, you may not even fly in a match this year. I want to be especially clear on this. I don’t want to hear you whinging about air time once you’re on, and you can bet that’s the fastest way to get yourself kicked off. Everyone understand?”

The girls nodded their heads in the affirmative.

“Cheers. Let’s crack on then. Follow me.”

Bridget, a well-built, if slightly short, brunette unlocked the gate to the pitch with a whisper and a light tap of her wand. She led the recruits through the iron gates, her two fellow Chasers bringing up the rear.

Ginny found herself near the middle of the pack. Being petite, and younger than most of the other girls, kept her distinctive red hair hidden amongst the blonds and brunettes around her, and she wondered if Harry would even be able to find her if he should happen to look out on the balcony.

Not that it mattered much at this point. He seemed to still be sleeping quite peacefully. Prat.

Ginny craned her neck over the people in front of her as they stopped just inside the gates. In front of her was not the practice pitch she’d anticipated. Instead, it was simply an extremely large, grassy area, surrounded by a high fence, with a few benches, a locker room, and little else.

Ginny’s confusion didn’t last long, however, as Bridget waved her wand and said in a carrying voice, “Chaser Drills!”

Immediately, three sets of hoops, set at intervals, popped into place. Lines appeared on the grassy area to divide it neatly into sections, with one set of goal hoops centered between each pair of lines.

“As you can see, our practice pitch is quite unique. This is our set up for Chaser Drills. There’s three sections so each of us can practice different things at the same time. We have different configurations for other types of exercises, but as you’re all out for our Chaser spot, this is what we’ll be using to check your skills. There’s about thirty of you, so you’ll be in groups of ten or so. Sometimes we’ll have you fly in teams of three, and sometimes we’ll ask you to demonstrate a specific maneuver on your own. When you aren’t flying, have a seat on one of the benches and keep your eyes open. We’re only taking one of you, so it’s best to know what you’re up against.

In fact, our first cut begins now. I want to see you on your brooms. Mount up, and give me a few laps. I want you weaving in between the hoops as you pass by, and the faster you go, the more you’ll impress me. Don’t be a nancy. This is professional Quidditch you’re going out for, and if you look scared, you’ll be out faster than you can say ‘Holyhead.’ Alright, mount up and get into the air! Go!”

Ginny wasted no time getting onto her broom. When she’d gotten her letter, she’d been ecstatic, but as they made preparations, she realized a major problem: her broom had been confiscated at Hogwarts, and never returned. Harry wasn’t about to let that be an impediment, though, and had told her, in no uncertain terms, that his money was now hers, and had instructed her to go buy the best broom on the market immediately. She didn’t have to be told twice. Flooing over to George’s shop, she flipped the sign to “Closed” and dragged Angelina over to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where she immediately bought the new Firebolt Hero, named after, ironically, her own husband. Once the company realized the Harry Potter owned one of their brooms, they immediately renamed their new model, which came out only weeks after the battle.

When she gave her name for the sales record, she found herself walking away with not one Firebolt Hero, but two, and without a knut spent. It seemed common knowledge that Harry was close with the Weasleys, and apparently the shopkeeper had been trying to ship a broom to Harry for weeks, but it kept being returned. With a promise that she’d deliver it to him personally, the shopkeeper sent her off, two Firebolt Heroes in hand, and absolutely refused to accept her money. She protested so violently, that Angelina promised to sneak the money into the store somehow and leave it where only he could find it. Satisfied, she flooed home, and she and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon testing out their new brooms.

Though she’d only flown it a few times, Ginny was already at ease on her shiny new broom. The acceleration was phenomenal, and the handling practically thoughtless. She shot into the air with a burst of speed, and fell into line with the other girls.

It quickly became a very competitive match. Each girl jockeyed for prime position, but Ginny’s stature gave her a bit of an advantage, as she was able to slip through smaller gaps and lay flatter on her broom for a speed boost the other girls couldn’t quite achieve. She wasn’t the runaway victor, not by a long shot, but she did steadily work her way up to the front of the pack, weaving in and out of the hoops with ease.

By the time the whistle was blown, Ginny was among the top three fliers. She descended quickly, swinging her legs over her broom as she dismounted, and stood near the front of the pack, sweat running down her back as the sun rose higher in the August sky.

Her vigorous fly had awoken Harry, and she could feel his pride as he watched her rise steadily through the ranks. She smiled brightly as the other girls circled around Bridget, Lena, and Kelly.

“Alright. Good flying, all of you. Unfortunately, there are a few that need to work on their skills a bit before they can be Harpies. When I point to you, please state your name, then go pack up your things. Monica will arrange a Portkey for you. Alright, you, you with the braids, you in the green, you…no, not you, the one next to you, yes, sorry, and…ah, you right over there. Right. Come give me your names. Everyone else, get a drink of water from the fountain next to the locker room, and then come straight back here.”

The five girls indicated walked morosely towards the Chasers in green as the other girls dashed off to the fountains, many with bottles in hand. Chatter broke out amongst the remaining girls as they waited in line to get a drink or fill their water bottles, and Ginny found herself the recipient of many compliments on her flying, as well as her vibrant hair. She smiled politely, and talked amiably with the girls until it was her turn for the fountain. Finished, she returned to the growing group waiting for the next activity.

When all the girls had assembled, Bridget spoke again.

“Okay, now we’re going to divide you up into three groups. Each of us has a roster. We will be your Captains for the day. When you hear your name, go stand by your Captain until all of you have been called. Lena, we’ll start with you.”

Lena read her names off slowly, a hint of an accent slipping in as she read the list. Ginny quickly realized that the list was alphabetical, and settled herself in for a wait. Lena finished hers, and Kelly called her group. There were nine in each group now that some of them had been cut, and, just as she expected, Ginny’s name wasn’t called.

“Right, so the nine of you are with me, but just to make sure there isn’t any confusion, I’m going to read off the list, anyway,” Bridget said.

“Janet Robinson,” she began, “Victoria Runnet, Anna Schmidt, Enya Sokolov, Claire Stevens, Emma Tailor, Ira Taylor, Emilie Vincent, and Ginevra Weasley.”

“I prefer ‘Ginny,’ please,” the redhead stated boldly as she walked towards her group, trying to ignore the whispers that had broken out among many of the witches at the mention of her name. As much as she’d been trying to stay out of the press, the Weasley name was not unknown, and several gossip articles had recently been saying she and Harry had run off to a tropical island together to “live in sin,” as they liked to call it. Where they got these ideas, Ginny would never know. They hadn’t even been seen together in over a year!

Head high, Ginny walked confidently to her group, and she couldn’t miss the gleam of pride that shone briefly in her captain’s eyes. Perhaps this had been some sort of test, something to see if Ginny’s fame was going to be a problem. It appeared she had passed.

Inside, she was growing a bit unsettled, and it was only the calm Harry was pushing through that kept her hands from visibly shaking. Still, if her grip on her broom was a bit tight, nobody commented.

Each group went into one of the sections of the field to run their drills. Ginny was grouped with Anna Schmidt and Emma Tailor for her team rounds, and the three talented athletes flew relatively well together, despite a minor communication barrier on Anna’s part. Bridget ran drill after drill after drill, putting Ginny and the others through their paces, and occasionally making notes on a clipboard.

The next round of cuts happened after lunch. The exhausted girls had collapsed willingly onto the benches around the pitch as Monica brought out a few large plates of sandwiches and a pitcher of water that magically refilled itself every time it was emptied.

Bridget plopped herself down on the ground in front of her girls as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“Good job, ladies. You’ve flown well, today. I’m sorry to say though, that some of you aren’t going to be flying with us this afternoon. Anna, you’re a brilliant flier, but you missed a few shots and you really have to be proficient at English to communicate in the air. Victoria and Claire, you fly a bit too timidly to fit in with our other players, and Ira, you simply missed too many shots. I’m sorry, girls, but the four of you are done. When you finish your lunches, pack up and see Monica so she can get you sent home.”

The four girls nodded sadly as they finished their lunches in silence before traipsing up to the house.

“Now, you may have noticed that there’s five of you left. I have to get it down to three by this afternoon, and one by the end of the day. Take a look at the girls around you. All but one of you will be gone by bedtime. If you’ve been holding back, now is the time to show me what you really have. You’ll have a ten-minute break to let the food settle, and then we’ll be back in the air. During that time, I need you to decide how badly you want this, and if you think you can handle it. Today has been tough, but it’s only going to get tougher. I’ll see you in the air in ten.”

And with that, Bridget went off to talk to her teammates, leaving the five girls to themselves.

It only took a moment for the silence to be broken.

“Alright, sweetheart, you’ve done what you came to do,” Janet said, turning a coldly patronizing gaze towards Ginny, “but I think it’s time for you to leave now. You can’t even be seventeen, can you?”

“She has to be seventeen,” Enya replied, “or she wouldn’t have been invited.”

“Look, honey, I don’t know what’s been going on in Russia, but this is Ginny Weasley, one of the family-friends of Harry Potter, surely you’ve heard of him. Some people are even saying she’s dating him. The Prophet says they’ve been holed up in Croatia or Turkey or something since the war, doing Merlin knows what. I doubt there’s anything little miss Weasley couldn’t get for herself if she wanted, War Hero that they claim she is, especially if she’s been in Potter’s pants,” Janet replied with a sneer.

“Is this true?” Enya questioned, looking to Ginny.

“Which part?” the redhead replied, doing her best to keep the anger out of her voice. “I’m certainly seventeen, and I have a lovely Bat-Bogey hex I’d be happy to demonstrate if you don’t believe me. As to the rest of it, well, I can’t really say. But, Croatia? Turkey? Really? If recent events taught you anything, it should be, at the very least, not to believe everything you read in the Prophet.”

“But do you really know Harry Potter?” Emma asked quietly from Ginny’s left. The girls’ teamwork earlier had formed a fragile friendship between the two, and she looked a bit shy at questioning Ginny.

“Yes, I do know him,” she replied with a sigh, “He’s been my brother’s best mate since their first year, and he’s stayed the summer at my house ever since. But once you’ve seen him stuffing a plate full of bangers and eggs into his mouth while wearing his ratty old pajamas, you sort of forget he’s famous.”

“But how does he take his eggs?” Emilie asked with a girly squeal. “And do you have any of his old clothes you might let me have?”

“Er…no, on the clothes. And he’s not particularly picky about his eggs…or any of his food, really.”

“Ooh! What’s his favorite Quidditch team? I heard he played Seeker at Hogwarts! Do you think he’ll try out for a team? I hear he’s quite talented,” Emilie questioned again, leaning closer to Ginny as she spoke.

“I saw him play at Hogwarts, a few times, actually,” Emma said, “I was a seventh year when he was a third. He was quite good. Even played as a first year!”

“Oh, I can’t believe it! I’ve never been so upset to have gone to Beauxbatons! To think, I could have been at Hogwarts with Harry Potter! He’d only have been a couple years behind me. Maybe we could’ve gone out!” Emilie gushed. “Oh, Ginny, you wouldn’t mind putting in a good word for me, would you?”

“Er…”

“Oh, thank you! You’re the best!” Emilie declared as she jumped up and wrapped Ginny in a hug before dashing off with her broom and beginning to fly some warm-up laps around their area of the pitch.

“But…I…bugger,” Ginny said as she watched Emilie’s retreating form.

“Well, Weasley, don’t get used to it,” Janet’s dour voice cut in. “Some of us are a bit less impressed with the hero worship. I’ve been trying to make it onto a nationally ranked team for years, and this is the last chance I’ve got before I’m ‘too old.’ I’m not going to let some celebrity kid waltz onto the team just because she’s got a connection to the bloody Chosen One. It takes talent to be a Harpy, and, sweetheart, I just don’t think you’ve got what it takes.”

Ginny watched with a scowl on her face as Janet joined Emilie in the air. Enya stood wordlessly a moment later and mounted her own broom.

“Don’t let her get to you, Ginny. You’re talented. I’ve seen it. You might even be better than me, and that’s something I don’t say often. I know you’re here because you deserve it.”

“Oh, I know. It’s true, I got the invitation because Harry asked for a favor, but that doesn’t mean I’m not good enough to be here, it’s just another side effect of the war. But I don’t care. It’s just going to make it all the more fun when I wipe the smug smile off her face with the tail of my broom.”

“Harry Potter got an invitation for Harpies tryouts for you as a favor? Merlin! You are in his pants!”

“No I’m not!”

“Then he wants you to be! A bloke doesn’t just do a favor like that for any girl. What are you to him?”

Ginny blushed.

“Er…that’s a complicated question,” Ginny replied tentatively. “You can’t let on, especially not to the papers, but we’re…together, I guess you could say. But we’re not sleeping together!”

“Mmhmm, sure you aren’t,” Emma said with a sly smile and a wink. “I’ll take your word for it. And don’t worry. I won’t tell the papers. The way I see it, he deserves a bit of privacy after what he’s done for us. Besides that, we had to sign a ridiculously strict confidentiality agreement just to get in. Now I know why. I’m not sure I’d even be able to talk about it outside the pitch,” the girl replied. “But, Ginny, would you tell him thank you for me? My dad’s a muggleborn and it’s only because of him that my dad is still around today.”

“I will. He won’t accept it, but I’ll tell him anyway.”

“Thanks, Ginny.”

“Cheers, Emma! Now, it’s time for us to wipe the smiles off those other girls’ faces, especially Janet’s…and Emilie’s. I’ll race you around the hoops.”

“You’re on!”

And with a smile, both girls rocketed into the air, their laughter following them as they raced each other through the goal hoops. And if they happened to swipe a bit close to Janet or Emilie as they flew by, well, nobody mentioned it.


	19. Chapter 19

In the end, it was Ginny who came away with the final spot in her group. For all Janet’s posturing, she was the next to go when she was beat in a Quaffle shoot-out by four shots, followed by Enya, who had missed two. None of the other girls missed any. Emilie held on a bit longer, mostly because she was even trimmer than Ginny and could out-maneuver her, though she wasn’t very confident with her maneuvers at high speeds. Ginny barely beat her in one of their drills by flying so close to the French girl that she lost a bit of her nerve.

Emma was a tough one, though. They’d played together, and Ginny quite liked her, which made it harder to get ahead of each other, and, Ginny had to admit, Emma was extremely talented. Once again, it was Ginny’s daring that allowed her to win when she swung her broom around upside down, holding on with just her legs, to toss the Quaffle soundly through the hoop.

Ginny returned to her room tired, sweaty, and sore, but victorious. Harry’s congratulatory kiss was fantastic, and she could feel his elation surging through their bond. Despite her excitement, Ginny’s exhaustion overcame her and, after a not-so-quick shower, she and Harry climbed into bed and fell into a very satisfying sleep.

************************

The following morning saw a rejuvenated Ginny making her way to the exhibition pitch, Harry behind her beneath his invisibility cloak.

The Harpies had arranged a Green vs. Gold exhibition match to try out their top three recruits and decide who would fill the final spot. They would play three matches, shifting teams between each match so each girl could play with as many different combinations of players as possible, in the hopes that they’d find the one player who was most versatile and truly fit with the team.

Each of the girls’ families would be in attendance, as well as some of the VIP and season ticket holders, as a special treat to them, since most of the previous season was spent abroad. Since the match would be open to the press, the Harpies and the Minister had arranged special security for Harry and the Weasleys. In an effort not to arouse suspicion about the increased security arrangements, each family would be given a special, private viewing box. The Weasleys box would be warded especially tightly, and, so long as Harry arrived under his cloak, no one would even know he was there.

Ginny had been a bundle of nervous excitement all morning. Over breakfast she’d nervously discussed some of the techniques she saw her fellow fliers using the previous day that she could incorporate into her own style, while making a list of the things she needed to remember in order to fly her best.

Harry had been sending her positive energy and encouragement for the past few hours, and it had seemed to help, but he knew that she wouldn’t be truly confident until she was in the air again.

The matches were set to last all day, with about an hour-long break in between each one. Since they were really testing the Chasers, not the other positions, they’d decided that if the snitch hadn’t been caught within three hours, they’d call the match and decide the winner without it.

Harry had parted ways with Ginny as he invisibly climbed the steps to her family’s box and she journeyed into the changing rooms. Once inside, Harry shed his cloak and took a seat, focusing on making sure Ginny stayed calm and confident while he waited for the Weasleys. Before he knew it, their box was full of red heads, and the teams for the first match were filing out onto the field.

The Harpies had decided that the best way to eliminate bias was to not let the other girls, or the spectators, know who each recruit was. Only the starting Chasers knew, and they had been instructed not to tell. Instead, on the back of each girl’s jersey, right where her name would be, it simply said, RECRUIT.

This didn’t stop Harry from recognizing Ginny the second she stepped onto the field, though. Her fiery hair made her recognizable from a distance, even if he didn’t have the added advantage of knowing precisely where she was at all times, anyway.

After a welcome and brief introduction by the announcer, the players arranged themselves in the middle of the pitch. With a sharp trill, the whistle blew, and the girls took to the air. As he knew it would, Ginny’s confidence returned full-force as the wind whipped her ponytail around behind her.

Harry was on his feet in an instant, cheering for his Ginny, and there he remained as the sun made a path across the sky, through one game until the next, until Ginny was safely on the ground again, for the last time.

**************************  
Ginny was pacing nervously.

She’d changed out of her exhibition uniform after her shower, but she and the other two girls were confined to the changing rooms until a decision had been reached. One of them, only one, would be offered a chance to play with the Harpies in only a few short moments.

To be honest, Ginny wasn’t as confident as she would have liked. She’d made some fantastic shots, but she’d missed a couple, as well. She hadn’t always been the star, sometimes choosing to play a more supportive role, rather than a scoring one. Her competition had been tough. Each of the girls was talented, and their daring was almost equal to her own. They were natural in the air, and both of them had scored more points than she had. They were always out front, always pushing others out of their way. One girl had even elbowed a teammate who nearly flew in front of her shot.

That’s not to say Ginny was a passive flier, she just couldn’t imagine hurting someone on your own team. On the contrary, Ginny had taken a bludger for a teammate who was ready to score, just to ensure the other girl’s shot would go through. She’d dislocated her shoulder, but had simply flown to the sidelines, had it reset, and took back to the air.

Ginny was inexperienced, and she was afraid it had shown. The other girls had played on club teams for years, and here was Ginny, not even fresh-out-of-Hogwarts, flying with Harpies who, she was fairly certain, could fly circles around her, even on her best day. Still, she’d given it a try and was very proud of herself.

Midway through her pacing, the door to the locker room swung open, and Monica stuck her head in.

“They’ve reached a decision. Please come out and line-up on the pitch.”

The girls straightened themselves up and followed Monica across the field at a brisk pace. The night had fallen while they were waiting, but the pitch had been illuminated by dozens of extremely large orbs of light. The stands were still packed with journalists and spectators waiting to hear the final decision. Ginny chanced a glance at the box where she knew her family to be. The wave of reassurance, confidence, pride, and love brought a smile to her face.

Whatever happened in the next few moments, at least she would always have Harry.

She took her spot and turned to face the Harpies team members assembled behind a raised podium on the opposite side of the pitch.

A short, dark skinned woman with arms like small trees stepped up to the podium.

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. This has been a fun day, hasn’t it?” Gwenog Jones began, her wand to her throat to magnify her voice. “I know you’ve been watching our recruits and waiting through our long deliberation to see which girl would become the next Holyhead Harpy Reserve Chaser. The wait has come to an end. The Harpies, our selection committee, the owners, managers, and even the Quaffle-girls have arrived at a decision we all feel comfortable with. It hasn’t been easy. Each of these girls has their own unique set of strengths that makes them each formidable opponents. They all possess the Harpy spirit of fierce competition and daring that keeps our team driven to succeed.

However, there is one player in particular who demonstrated another of our keys to success. You see, the Harpies would not be the team we are without each other. Though we are all talented enough to be standout players, we shine because we are able to put those selfish desires behind and function as a team. When a young player already has that sense of teamwork developed so strongly, we cannot pass that up. Accuracy and maneuvers can be taught. Selflessness and teamwork cannot.

Because of this, we have chosen perhaps not the candidate you would at first imagine. This girl demonstrated a fierce courage and drive both yesterday and today. She flew with speed, grace, and agility, and was not afraid to take risks. However, she also knew when to get out of the way, when to pass to a more experienced player, and even when to take a bludger for a teammate, a bludger that was hit by me, I might add, so I know it wasn’t a pleasant experience for her,” the people in the stadium chuckled and Ginny felt her heart begin to rise in anticipation.

“So, it is my pleasure and privilege, as Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, to welcome the newest Harpy into our nest, England’s own, Ginny Weasley!”

Ginny was shocked. She was numb. She was fairly sure she was dreaming. She had tried out, yes. She had hoped she’d succeed, yes. But, if she was honest with herself, she’d always known she would be a long-shot at best.

It seemed it was a long-shot kind of year.

Numbly, she walked towards the podium to shake Gwenog’s hand. She found her hand gripped tightly by the captain of her favorite Quidditch team, now her Quidditch team, and leaned forward as Gwenog whispered into her ear.

“Congratulations. He said you were a good flier, and he wasn’t mistaken. Welcome to the Harpies.”

Ginny was led around to the back of a small wooden table that had appeared next to the podium. On it lay a full set of green and gold pads, gloves, and goggles. She had a practice uniform, a carry bag, sweatshirts, and several pieces of Harpies memorabilia, as well as the key to her new locker. Displayed prominently across the table was her brand new uniform, her match robe and warm-up cloak laid out separately. The number seven glittered in gold on the back of each one, with the word RESERVE stitched carefully underneath on her warm-up cloak only.

Gwenog placed her wand tip to her throat again and her magically magnified voice boomed out over the surrounding crowds.

“Ginny, welcome to the team. To accept your position, please place your hands on top of the robes in front of you and repeat after me. When you are finished, your name will appear on the robes, and you’ll officially be a part of our team. Do you accept?”

Ginny nodded.

“Excellent! Now, repeat after me. ‘I will play for the Holyhead Harpies and only the Holyhead Harpies until I am released by my captain…I will uphold the values of my teammates and always do what is best for the team…I will put forth my best effort at every game and practice…This I do swear.”

“…This I do swear,” finished Ginny.

As the last words fell from her lips, the garments beneath her hands glowed golden, before fading to reveal the new golden stitching added to her robes. Her name sparkled up at her from the table beneath her hands and Ginny’s mouth dropped open in shock.

There, for all the world to see, was the name Potter, stitched clearly above the number seven on her new uniform.

Her stomach plummeted as a gasp went around the stadium. Cameras started flashing rapidly and she shakily stepped back from the table. A loud pop sounded throughout the stadium as Harry appeared in front of her, wrapped his arms around her astonished body, and apparated them both away, the flashes of the cameras continuing long after they had gone.

***********************  
Harry couldn’t be more proud of Ginny.

He’d just heard Gwenog call her name and had felt her shock and elation as she walked forward to shake the hand of her new captain. She’d played brilliantly. He knew she’d been nervous, but he’d seen the way the other team members had scowled at the other girls for trying to be a diva while smiling at Ginny’s teamwork efforts.

Gwenog had just whispered something in her ear, and it had broken Ginny’s shell-shocked attitude. He could now feel her happiness and pride radiating across their bond. Her dazzling smile as she surveyed her new equipment melted his heart.

He listened with rapt attention as Ginny repeated the words Gwenog fed her, the smile never leaving her face, at least…not until the very end.

When the golden glow had faded and the name Potter had revealed itself, Harry felt both their hearts fall. Cursing under his breath as he felt Ginny’s panic blending with his own, he did the only thing he could think of–he got her out of there.

If he’d had time to think, he would have put on his invisibility cloak first, or sent one of her brothers down to fetch her, but this was not the time for thinking. He spun on the spot, and arrived in front of her, meeting her panicked gaze with his own. He wrapped his arms protectively around her as he spun again and took them both away.

They arrived at the gate to the Burrow to find Charlie already holding it open for them, Percy standing guard outside with his wand drawn. Two pops behind him announced the arrival of Bill and George, and the front door hanging open let them know that Arthur and Molly had probably already arrived.

Harry and Ginny dashed, hand-in-hand, through the wards and towards the house as more and more pops could be heard arriving at the Burrow’s gates. Charlie closed and locked the gate as he, Percy, and George stood in front of it with their wands drawn, fending off the hordes of reporters that kept appearing outside. Bill stood just inside the gate, waving his wand in complicated patterns, and slicing his finger open to let it drip on the ground in front of him, strengthening the already-reinforced wards around The Burrow with wards keyed to only his immediate blood family.

Harry and Ginny flew through the door, and collapsed into chairs in the kitchen. Ginny dropped her head onto the table as Harry shakily rubbed circles on her back while looking to Arthur with desperate eyes. He could hear the reporters outside shouting questions about Ginny and him and he could see the flashing of their cameras as they illuminated the back wall of the kitchen through the window.

Suddenly, the shouting cut off with an odd squelching noise, though the flashes could still be seen, and the only sounds they could hear were their heavy breathing and the steady chirping of crickets outside. Moments later, her brothers traipsed through the front door, shutting it with a click behind them. Bill waved his wand towards it and the door glowed blue for a moment before returning to its normal color. He did the same thing to all the exterior doors and windows while his brothers arranged themselves around the table.

“Well…that was fairly dramatic,” said Percy. “I’ve never seen such a circus.”

“Welcome to my life,” Harry muttered as he rested his forehead on Ginny’s back.

“Yes, our Harry sure does know how to attract a crowd,” George commented with a smile. “Should have seen him at Hogwarts. Had his own fan club!”

“You’d think you’d be used to it by now, then,” Charlie said, a hint of a question rising in his voice.

“Well it isn’t the same, now, is it?” Harry asked with venom, his voice rising. “It’s all right if they want to talk about me! What do I care? I’ve heard it all already. But I don’t want them bringing Ginny into this!”

“That ship has sailed, mate,” George said with a shake of his head. The night’s excitement seemed to have brought back a bit of his old self.

“I hate to agree with him, but he’s right, Harry,” Bill said as he emerged at the bottom of the stairs. “The damage has been done. There’s nothing we can do now but damage control.”

“Right. It would be in your best interest to release a statement. Keep the press from making too many wrong conclusions,” Percy stated, businesslike. “I can draft something up for you, if you like?”

“Thanks, Percy that–” Harry started.

“No.”

All eyes turned to Ginny as she lifted her head up off the table and fixed them with a firm gaze.

“No,” she repeated. “We can handle it ourselves, thanks, Percy. I don’t even know why we thought we could hide this. The truth is, I’m a Potter now. I know it. Harry knows it. You all know it. Apparently, the universe knows it, too. There’s no point pretending I’m not. And…well…it’s not so bad, I guess.”

She offered Harry a small smile.

“If it’s going to come out that I’m secretly married, well, I’m glad I’ve got Harry by my side and not someone else.”

He squeezed her hand.

“I’m sorry, Gin. It ruined your moment.”

“A bit, yeah, but not really. I hadn’t even thought about what name would be on my uniform, to be honest, and a part of me is relieved that I don’t have to lie to people by wearing Weasley on my back when that technically isn’t my name anymore. The documents prove it. And what was I going to do the first time I went to Diagon Alley? Have them charge it to my vault? I think people would get suspicious when I started paying for everything using the Potter account. And when I go for my apparation license, I’ll have to give my legal name. Merlin! I’ll have to give my name as Ginny Potter just to get into the ministry. The lie detector spell won’t let me in otherwise! We were being ridiculous. We’re not going to be able to keep this to ourselves.”

Harry and Ginny smiled gently at each other as he pulled her in for an embrace.

“I’m still sorry. Becoming a Harpy should have been all about you, and instead it’s become all about me. I’m afraid I’m always going to be stealing your spotlight.”

“It’s okay, Harry. It’s really not that important to me. I want to play Quidditch because I love it, not because I want to be famous.”

“Well, like it or not, Gin-Gin, you’re famous now,” George sing-songed.

Ginny turned to him with a scowl.

“Ginny,” Arthur began, seeing a fight developing between his children, “I know you and Harry want to handle this yourselves, but I think Percy’s right. We should release a statement before we do anything else. It’ll keep them from making up horrible stories about you both.”

“But what are we going to say? That we’re bonded? We still don’t know exactly what that means.”

“No. We’ll just tell them that you were married on your birthday. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

“You know they’re going to ask questions, Dad.”

“Then we’ll decide how to answer them as they come up. I’ll go talk to the minister and see if we can’t smooth this out before tomorrow’s Prophet is printed. I’ll be home later.”

“I’ll come with you, Dad,” Percy said, and together they rushed off in a whoosh of green flames to speak with the Minister of Magic.

“Well, as for the rest of us, I suggest we all get to bed. It’s been a busy day, and I daresay it’ll be another one tomorrow. Off you go.”

“I’ve got one more thing to do, then I’ll be off,” Bill said. “I’ve put up a blood ward, so I’ll need to key in all our regular guests as they come through. So long as they enter with one of us it won’t be a problem, but I don’t want anyone getting kicked out when they try to enter on their own. A bit of blood please, Harry,” Bill requested, as he quickly and efficiently pricked the tip of Harry’s finger. He collected a couple drops of blood on his knife and went back outside while Molly quickly healed Harry’s finger. They watched through the kitchen window as he wiped the bloody knife on the ground and began to wave his wand. The ward flashed white for a second, and then was still again.

“Alright. Back home to Fleur. She won’t believe this when I tell her. You two,” he gestured to Harry and Ginny, “try to stay away from the windows. The wards should warp the photos, but it won’t keep them from seeing you with their eyes. Don’t give them anything else to write about. And, hey, congratulations, Ginny. I couldn’t be more proud of my baby sister.” Bill winked at Ginny and kissed Molly on the cheek before he, too, disappeared through the floo.

“Goodnight, Mum and famous Potters,” George said with a snicker as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Ginny shot a glare to his retreating back before rising from the table and grabbing Harry’s hand.

Harry stood nervously, looking between Ginny’s hand clasped in his and her mother, leaning on the counter near the sink. This particular complication hadn’t occurred to him and he wasn’t quite sure how to address it. Ginny kissed her mum on the cheek and began to pull him towards the stairs.

“Wait, Gin. We…we, ah, need to talk to your mum about something, don’t you think?”

“Oh,” Ginny breathed, sensing his apprehension and remembering their sleeping arrangements from the previous nights. “Yes, I guess we do.”

Harry tugged her over to his side and took a deep breath, meeting the curious gaze of the lovingly intimidating Molly Weasley.

“We’ve discovered something new about our bond,” he began.

Molly’s gaze immediately brightened to one of excited inquisitiveness, though there was a certain nervousness there as well.

“It’s…well…Ginny and I hadn’t been sleeping well, and er…we discovered, by accident, you see, that we sleep much better when we’re, well…together. In the same…bed.”

Her gaze flicked from inquisitive to motherly in less time than it took him to blink.

“I see. And how did you discover this? I don’t recall sleeping in someone else’s bed is one of those things that happens accidentally.”

Harry swallowed hard at the gaze she was now directing at him, but if he was going to defend his and Ginny’s relationship he would have to start somewhere.

“Well, we keep falling asleep when we’re together during the day, but then not being able to sleep at all when we’re apart at night. When Ginny couldn’t sleep the night we arrived, she…er…”

“I climbed into his bed and slept just fine.”

Or maybe he’d just leave the defending to Ginny, from now on...at least when it came to her mother.

“Ginevra!” Molly exclaimed, outraged.

“What? Technically I’m a married woman and can do what I want with my husband. Not that it matters, but we were just sleeping. These past two nights have been the only nights I’ve actually slept since my birthday. The bond seems to require us to be touching to get any sort of restful sleep.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley, you know I’d never take advantage of Ginny like that. I’m just so tired, Ginny is, too, and I know the only way we’ll sleep is if we’re together.”

Molly Weasley huffed and turned her back to the teens. After what seemed like an eternity for them, she turned back around and regarded them with an unreadable expression.

“While I’m not sure it’s wise to allow my seventeen year old daughter to share a room with her eighteen year old husband, I must admit, you are correct, Ginny. You’re married, and there’s little I can do to stop you. And besides that, you’re bonded to each other, and who am I to stand in the way of a Soul Bond? Just promise me you’ll be careful with each other and take care of each other. There’s no rush. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean I’m ready for grandbabies yet, at least not from the two of you.”

Harry and Ginny both blushed.

“Mum, I’ve just joined a professional Quidditch team. Babies would sort of ruin that for me. Trust me, we’re not ready for children yet, either,” Ginny replied. “And I promise, it’ll just be sleeping. We’re not quite to…that…point yet.”

“But you will be, dear, and that’s what I want you to understand. This bond is pulling you closer and closer together, faster than either of you planned for. I know you’re ‘just sleeping’ for now, but the time will soon come when you aren’t. I’m aware of that. A mother is never fully prepared for her baby girl to grow up, but I seem to have no choice, and bond or no bond, that time is upon me. The only thing I ask is that when you do decide to take that next step, make sure it is a choice you’re both making together, and not just because of this bond.”

“Okay,” Ginny whispered as Harry squeezed her hand.

“That’s all I can ask,” Molly said with a smile. “Now, both of you go up to Harry’s room and gather his things. I’ll get Hermione’s cot out of the way, and get Ginny’s room ready for you both.”

When they came down to Ginny’s room some time later, their pockets full of Harry’s few shrunken possessions, it was to find the place transformed. Ginny’s bed had been expanded to comfortably sleep two people, and had been pulled away from the wall. An exact duplicate of Ginny’s side table was now on the other side of the bed, as well. Another dresser had been conjured next to Ginny’s already overflowing one, and the pink of the walls had been changed to a pale, springy green. Molly was waving her wand as the bed magically made itself using the cream-colored linens sitting in a neat pile beside her.

“Sorry it’s a bit cramped, dears,” Molly said as she made her way towards the door. I’ll have Arthur and the boys enlarge it tomorrow. I’m afraid he’s far better at it than I am.”

“It’s alright, Mum. Thanks. This is perfect, for tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Weasley. This is more than we asked for.”

“Harry, if I hear you calling me Mrs. Weasley again, I’ll have you de-gnoming the garden until Christmas! You’re married to my daughter and living in my house. My name is Molly.”

“Er…right. Sorry, Molly. But, you know, thanks. This means a lot to me, and to Ginny, too.”

Ginny nodded.

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember what I said. No grandchildren from the two of you, yet.”

“Yes, Mum. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, it’s my job to worry about it. Now, get some sleep. I imagine you’ll need it tomorrow. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” they chorused as Molly shut the door behind her.

Harry and Ginny waved their wands to enlarge Harry’s things and send them to putting themselves away. Ginny walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out a set of comfortable pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, only then realizing that her favorite pajamas had been forgotten in their room at the Harpy’s Guest House.

As she went to pull them on, she met Harry’s eyes. Determinedly, he turned his back and busied himself organizing the things on his bedside table as Ginny changed her clothes.

“It’s going to get annoying having to turn around each time one or the other of us wants to change clothes, you know,” Ginny remarked as she shimmied into her pajama pants.

“I can change in the bathroom, if you like.”

“The bathroom is two floors up, Harry.”

“Still. I would.”

“I know you would, but let’s not get ridiculous. I’ll manage just fine turning around for you like you are for me. It’s just kind of strange to be sharing a bed but still being embarrassed about changing clothes.”

“I know. I don’t suppose we’ll do it forever, but for now, I’d prefer to keep moving at our regular slow pace. Just because we’re now sharing a room doesn’t mean we have to do everything at once. Though, you have no idea how hard it is for me not to turn around every time I hear another piece of clothing hit the ground.”

Ginny chuckled.

“Well you’re the one who turned your back. You’ll notice I didn’t say a single word. So really, if you’re being tortured, it’s entirely your fault.”

“Gin.”

“I know, love. I’m teasing. You’re right. Fully-clothed for now, and backs turned.”

“Thanks. Are you done yet?”

“Just finished. I’ll climb in and close my eyes while you get changed.”

Harry put on a comfortable pair of cotton sweatpants and a thin t-shirt before climbing into bed next to Ginny.

“It’s safe to look now.”

“I figured that out for myself, thanks,” Ginny replied with a giggle as she snuggled into Harry’s embrace.

She turned her head and captured his lips in a kiss.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she whispered, gazing into his emerald green eyes.

“Goodnight, Ginny,” he replied, equally quietly, staring into the depths of her honey brown irises.

He placed a kiss on her temple as she turned her head away from his, and together, wrapped in each others arms, they fell asleep, the sounds of nighttime at the Burrow drifting in through the window and singing them to sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

It had been a very long day for Ron and Hermione. They’d finally made the difficult decision to return home after reaching a tentative peace with Hermione’s parents. They had promised to return home to England in a couple months, after they got things settled, and sold their house. Still, they were unhappy with their daughter for keeping such dangerous secrets, and they were still reconciling the sweet, mild-mannered girl they’d sent to school seven years ago with this rebellious, bold, confident woman that stood before them. Seeing that they could do no more, the two teenage travelers left the airplane tickets with Hermione’s parents and spent one last night on the town before returning home.

After sleeping late, grabbing a cup of coffee at the local café, and packing up their stuff, Ron and Hermione apparated to the Australian Ministry to check out and arrange return travel.

That’s when things started to go wrong. The managers at the International Portkey Office were attending a conference about new portkey regulations at the International Confederation of Wizards headquarters in Switzerland, and the office was not running well without them. Apparently, the regular twice-daily portkeys to and from New Zealand had all gone wonky, and there were tourists and commuters scattered as far as Thailand, or roaming aimlessly through the Australian Outback. The entire office had devoted its resources to solving the problem, leaving only one worker to handle other International travel. She was harried as she worked her way through a line of arriving travelers, more portkeys scheduled to arrive in half an hour.

Ron and Hermione joined a line of people waiting to depart, and settled in for a long wait. Two hours later, they’d only moved forward a little bit. Ron had gone to the cafeteria to get them a couple sandwiches while Hermione held their place in line. There were still three families in line ahead of them, but the line of arrivals was now stretching around the office and the poor witch was trying to thin it out again before going through any more departures. Ron returned, they ate their sandwiches, and finally got to the desk after only a couple more hours of waiting.

Ron was suitably annoyed by the time they were finally called to the desk.

“Names?” the woman asked.

“Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger,” Hermione stated clearly.

The quill on the desk recorded their information as the woman reached into a box full of models of the Sydney Opera House and drew one out, not looking up from her work.

“Destination?”

“British Ministry of Magic.”

“Desired departure time?”

“Immediately.”

“Sorry, mates, no departing portkeys today until we get this mix-up with New Zealand patched up. Earliest I can get you out is tomorrow at noon. Take this back with you–”

“Tomorrow at noon?” Ron yelled. “We’ve been standing here for going on four hours now and you don’t want to send us home until tomorrow? We’ve already got our stuff packed. We’re checked out of our hotel. We’re running out of money. Where do you want us to stay?”

“The Ministry has an overnight hostel three blocks from here if–”

“No. I’m not taking Hermione to a hostel, even if it is run by the Ministry. We’re getting home this evening! Call the minister! We’re personal friends of Minister Shacklebolt in England.”

“Of course you are. I suppose now you’re going to tell me you’re friends with Harry Potter, too? Shall I call him as well?”

“WE BLOODY WELL ARE FRIENDS WITH HARRY POTTER AND I DON’T CARE WHO YOU CALL, BUT WE’RE TIRED AND WE ARE READY TO GO HOME!”

“Ron–” Hermione started.

“I’m calling security,” the desk witch said, but before she could wave her wand, a regal man in navy robes swept in.

“That’ll be quite enough, thank you,” the man, whom Ron and Hermione recognized as the Australian Minister, said to the shocked witch at the desk. “These two are with me. Personal favor for the British Minister. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”

Grabbing their arms, he swept out of the room, leaving a crowd of shocked portkey workers and travelers behind.

They said nothing more until they reached his office.

“Sorry to pull you out like that, but there’s been a…disturbance back home. I was just about to send someone out to your hotel to fetch you when one of my men said there was an incident involving pushy British teenagers in the portkey office. I assumed they were talking about the two of you. It’s lucky that we found you when we–”

“Excuse me sir,” Hermione interrupted the long-winded diplomat, “But you said there was a disturbance. Is everyone alright? Has someone been hurt?”

“No, no! Nothing like that. The Minister just wanted you all accounted for and brought home before the press gets wind of your whereabouts. Here,” he thrust a newspaper into Hermione’s hands. “A copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet. Should be hitting the stands any minute now. Also, an advance copy of the special evening edition of the Sydney Seer,” he gave the second paper to Ron.

A picture of his best friend and his sister apparating out of the Harpies stadium, the word Potter glowing brightly on the jersey in the background dominated the front page of both papers beneath the headline “Harpy Harlot Has Handle on Harry’s Heart: Boy-Who-Lived wed in secret ceremony”

Silence stifled the Minister’s office before Hermione’s sighed words cut through it like a knife.

“Sweet Merlin, Harry, what have you gotten yourself into now?”

************************

Morning came early to the residents of the Burrow. Molly Weasley could be heard bustling about in the kitchen shortly after the sun rose over the hilltop in the east. Harry and Ginny were up moments later, wandering down the stairs hand-in-hand.

“Morning, you two.”

“Morning,” they replied as they set about pouring their morning tea.

“Any sign of the Prophet yet?” Harry asked.

“Not yet, dear. It’s a bit early still. I expect Arthur will bring one whenever he gets back from the Ministry. Kingsley called him in early this morning, even after he was there late last night.”

“I’m sorry, Mum,” Ginny said.

“Not your fault, Ginny, dear,”

“But Dad didn’t have to be the one to handle it. We could have taken care of it on our own later.”

“But he’s your father and he wants to make things as easy for you as possible. He doesn’t mind, really. He’s just upset this had to happen.”

Molly made breakfast for the three, plus George, who managed to sleep a little longer. She set a plate under a warming charm for her busy husband, and then set about her day.

Harry and Ginny settled on the couch, Harry with a Defense book he’d found stacked in the corner of Ginny’s room amongst Hermione’s personal library, and Ginny with a book of Quidditch plays that looked well-worn and well-loved. It took only moments for the two of them to drift back to sleep.

Molly sat in the chair across the room, watching them interact, then keeping an eye on them while they slept as she worked on the next round of Christmas jumpers. Knitting sweaters for a whole family was a year-round job, and she’d been neglecting it of late and had fallen behind.

So it was that about an hour later, as George was preparing to head to the shop, and Molly was thinking about checking the garden, the floo flared to life and out stepped not just Arthur, but Ron and Hermione as well.

Harry awoke to a sharp slap across his face, unceremoniously dumping Ginny on the floor as he flinched and jumped off the couch.

“Ronald!” Molly chided her youngest son as he met Harry’s eyes. Without another word, he grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him from the house. Through the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ginny leading a reluctant Hermione up the stairs. The two boys came to a stop behind Arthur’s shed and Ron released Harry’s arm.

“Er…welcome home, mate,” Harry said tentatively.

“Mate? Mates invite each other to their weddings, Harry. Especially when a bloke is marrying his best mate’s sister. Not sure we can use the word ‘mate’ right now. And yeah, before you ask, Australia was interesting, but apparently not nearly as interesting as what’s been going on, here. Bloody hell! I was dragged out of the International Portkey Office just about an hour ago, rushed home through a series of floos that all connected directly to a British embassy, then deposited in the office of the bloody Minister of Magic, himself, only to see him and my father shouting at each other from across the office about, surprise, surprise, you. What were you bloody thinking?”

“Listen, Ron–”

“No, you listen. I trusted you with her. I told you not to mess her about. I didn’t say anything when the two of you got back together. I could see it was good for the both of you, I’m not as blind as I let Hermione think I am. But when we left, which, mind you, was only about a month ago, the two of you had only just started a relationship again. Why did you get married so–” Ron paused mid sentence as his eyes widened. He turned a hard, accusing gaze upon his best mate.

“Please tell me she isn’t pregnant,” he growled.

“Merlin! She’s definitely not pregnant.”

“Did you think she was?”

“No! There’s no way she’s pregnant.”

“It’s hard to be sure, Harry.”

“Not when you’re not having sex, it isn’t! I haven’t slept with your sister, Ron!”

“Don’t lie to me, Harry. You’re married. Of course you’re having sex.”

“No, we’re not. We didn’t plan on getting married, it sort of just…happened, and we’re taking things as slow as we can!”

“Marriage doesn’t ‘sort of just happen.’”

“It does for us.”

“How?”

Harry took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Have you ever heard of a soul bond?”

****************************

“Ronald!” Molly Weasley cried as she watched her son haul a red-faced Harry out the back door.

“Leave them, Mum. Harry will explain it,” Ginny said. “Come on, Hermione. Let’s go upstairs. I think we have some things to talk about.”

“But…Ron! You don’t know how upset he is. Your dad tried to explain but Ron just rushed through the floo without listening. I don’t think we should leave them out there alone!” Hermione protested as Ginny dragged her up the stairs.

“They’ll be fine. Harry can take care of himself and Ron isn’t going to believe it unless it comes from Harry’s mouth.” Ginny opened her bedroom door and ushered Hermione inside.

Hermione looked around in confusion, taking in Harry’s clothes in the open drawer of the new wardrobe and the double bed.

“Where are my things?”

“Mum moved them into Percy’s old room. It’s one floor up. This is mine and Harry’s room, now.”

“You share a room?”

“Well, we are married.”

“Right. Married. How did that happen?”

“Do you remember when we talked last time, after I broke my leg and Harry and I got back together, and I told you that I couldn’t tell you the whole story yet?”

Hermione nodded.

“Well, I’m going to tell you the whole story now. Have you heard of a Druidic Soul Bond?”

“Is it anything like an ordinary soul bond? I read about them once. They’re not real though, are they? I mean, no one’s had one for absolute ages, and the author thought they were probably just old wives’ tales or something.”

“They’re definitely real. Harry and I have a Druidic one, probably the first one in hundreds of years.”

“What? How?”

“You know I’m the seventh child, and am apparently the first girl in seven generations. Seven generations of Druidic women. It’s magically significant. When Harry saved me in the Chamber, I was bonded to him, but rather than a traditional life-debt bond, it took the form of a Druidic Soul Bond. It was insane. I could sense him, Hermione. You wouldn’t believe it. Merlin, I didn’t believe it. Then, in the forest, when Harry sacrificed himself, it was me he came back for,” Ginny confessed with a blush.

“It gave him a life-debt to me, which, if it had been an ordinary bond, would have canceled the other out, but instead, it latched onto the Druidic Soul Bond and made it a reciprocal one. We both have it now. And when I came of age, the Bond…solidified, or something. We were both marked,” she pulled her shirt over to expose the Serch Bythol, “and our official marriage was registered with the Ministry. There was no ceremony, and until yesterday, we’d agreed to pretend we weren’t married. I wish you’d been here to point out all the ways that wasn’t going to work out, starting with my official name change appearing on my Harpies uniform as it did yesterday.”

“So, you’re not just married, you’re bonded?”

Ginny sighed as she leaned back against the headboard of her bed.

“Yeah. It’s a bit crazy to think about. It’s like, when I was little, I’d tell everyone I was going to grow up and marry Harry Potter. And now I have. But it’s different than I imagined, you know?”

Hermione leaned back next to Ginny.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when I was little, I imagined Harry would be some magnificent hero, sweeping me off my feet and vanquishing evil only to come back and greet me with a kiss. The real world is so much messier than that. But…I don’t know. That makes it more real.”

Ginny paused, “I mean, I didn’t marry Harry-the-Hero or the Boy-Who-Lived, I married Harry James Potter, the boy who lived upstairs, who’s favorite food is treacle tart, who loves flying and being outdoors, and is, in some ways, just a normal boy. I don’t love him because he’s special, Hermione. I love him because he somehow still manages to be ordinary in all the ways that matter.”

“Harry will be glad to hear that.”

“He knows.”

“How can you be sure?”

“We talked about it when we first found out our bond was the same as a marriage. He was worried I’d realize how truly ordinary he was and not want to be with him anymore.”

“I see. So how is married life?”

“Good, I suppose. We don’t act much like we’re married.”

Hermione looked at Ginny with a raised eyebrow and gestured to the room around her.

“I’ve noticed your new room has only one bed. That’s very marital. Have you slept together yet?”

Ginny blushed.

“Not in the way you mean, we haven’t. We sleep together, obviously, but we haven’t 'slept together.' We haven’t even come close. Harry is taking things excruciatingly slowly. How about you and Ron? Have you slept with him, yet?”

Hermione turned an impressive shade of Weasley red.

“Oh, Merlin, you have!”

“No, but we did come close one night in Australia. Things got…a bit out of hand. But, well, it was Ron who stopped us, actually. Reminded me that we’d only been together for a few months and maybe we should slow things down a bit.”

“Ron did that?”

“Yeah. He was quite the gentleman.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about my brother, Ronald Bilius Weasley? Kind of tall, red hair, generally a thick git, previously seen very ungentlemanly writhing around in the common room attached to a pair of lips known as Lavender Brown?”

“Oh, give him a bit of credit. The Lavender incident was a fiasco. He’s actually quite decent with me.” Hermione paused for a moment and continued in a small voice. “Do you think it’s because I’m not as attractive as her?”

Ginny sat up and looked Hermione in the eyes.

“Absolutely not. Have you seen yourself lately? You’re gorgeous.”

“No I’m not! My hair isn’t sleek and straight, I’m not petite or curvy, I talk too much, everyone says I’m too bookish, and–”

“And Ron’s been crazy about you since fourth year, at least. He doesn’t care about any of those things. I think those things are quite lovely, actually. It takes a lot of work to get my hair to curl, but yours does it naturally. You’re taller than some girls, which makes you a good height for Ron, who is practically a giant, and if you didn’t talk so much Ron would have more opportunities to say stupid things, and nobody wants that. And despite all the reading you do, you haven’t been ‘bookish’ since fifth year. After the Department of Mysteries, you’re a fighter, and Ron needs someone like you.”

“You really think that?”

“I really do.”

Hermione sighed.

“I think I love him, Ginny.”

“Good for you.”

“Do you think he loves me, too?”

“I don’t doubt it for a second. But he’s probably too thick to realize it, yet. Harry was the same way.”

“Harry’s told you he loves you?”

“Yeah. It was weird, because, you know, I told you I can sense him? Well, I can tell what he’s feeling. Like, right now, he’s…content, but somehow still a little nervous, probably about Ron’s approval, and he’s also a bit mischievous…” Ginny giggled and rubbed her hand over the spot under her shirt where Hermione had seen the Serch Bythol, earlier, “he must be telling Ron about the mark, because he traced it and he knows that makes it tickle. He’s teasing me even when we’re not together.”

“You can feel it when he touches it?”

“Yeah. Only on the mark, though. Not, like, when he rubs his arm or something.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess. Might be a bit weird, otherwise.”

Ginny laughed and scrunched her nose.

“So what were you saying about when Harry said he loved you?” Hermione probed.

“Oh, yeah! So, sometime after we got back together, in these quiet moments sometimes I would feel a different emotion, something deeper. It took me a while, but I figured it was probably Harry’s version of love. Neither of us said anything until my birthday when the bond acted up. We were…er…caught in a compromising position. The bond…it was angry because it hadn’t been fulfilled properly or something, and when Harry came down to give me a kiss good morning, it, well it sort of felt like fire, to be honest. A raging inferno, and the only way to make it feel better was to get more of Harry. When Mum and Dad came in, Harry’s shirt was on the floor, mine was pushed up, exposing my stomach, I had one leg wrapped around him, pinning him on top of me. We were so caught up in each other that we didn’t even notice Mum and Dad come in.

Somewhere in the middle of Mum’s tirade, I said something back, and accidentally said I loved Harry, which was true, I just wasn’t ready to tell him yet. That’s when he figured out what that emotion was, and he said he loved me, too. Then the Serch Bythol appeared on both of us, and the bond calmed down, and we found out we were married.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she took in the story. Ginny turned a questioning gaze to her friend.

“Has…has Harry ever said he loved either of you?”

Hermione shook her head.

“I think…that may have been the first time he’d ever said he loved anyone,” Ginny said hesitantly.

“Oh, Ginny!” Hermione breathed as a tear rolled down her face.

“I know.” Ginny said, turning a watery gaze towards her friend.

“I haven’t really had time to process it all, you know? Things happened so fast after that, and we decided not to act as if we were married until we made that decision on our own, of course you see how well that worked out. But, then, it’s just…it’s been a whirlwind, and he’s told me he loved me every morning and night since then, but it’s just so wonderful, you know? I never thought he’d love me. I mean…our relationship has been unconventional, to say the least. But I really do love him, and I know he loves me, too. I couldn’t ask for more than that. It’s crazy, and this whole thing is going to be one never-ending press nightmare, I know, but I love him so much, I can’t…I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

“Good to know,” said Harry from the doorway. His face was still red where Ron’s slap had rudely awoken him, but both boys stood together in the doorway, Ron with a rueful smile on his face, and Harry with a loving one.

“I wouldn’t trade you, either,” he continued, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed nearest Ginny. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead and straightened back up. “Your parents want us in the kitchen. They’re having a fit about the articles. Don’t you want to see what they say?”

“I don’t care, Harry.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a smile, “which is precisely why I told your dad to chuck them. He was more than happy to. But, there is something in the kitchen that I know you’re very interested in.”

“What is it?”

“Come down and see, love. I think we’ve had enough serious talk for the day.”

“Too right!” Ron agreed.

The four trooped down into the kitchen where a large package sat on the table.

“Is that for me?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, it is. The Minister sent it over. I’m ah…afraid I said some rather unkind things to him in regards to his handling of the Prophet. He would’ve delivered it himself, but…well…”

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Ginny said as she gave her father a hug. “Thanks for defending us.”

“Always,” he said. “Now, open it up! I think you’re going to like what’s inside.”

Without further prompting, Ginny ripped open the plain brown wrapping. Inside was a green box with the Harpies logo emblazoned on the top. Smiling, Ginny pulled the lid off and pulled a piece of embossed paper off the top.

Dear Mrs. Potter,

You left in a bit of a rush yesterday and left behind all your new things. As you will need them for the start of the season, I’ve sent them to you, care of the Ministry.

I’ve been informed that you neglected to notify us of your name change in an effort to keep this information secret. While we at the Holyhead Harpies understand your and Mr. Potter’s desire to remain as anonymous as possible, know that a fair degree of publicity will come from this, especially if you continue with our team. That being said, security has been increased on all our practice pitches, and we have restricted media access to scheduled, pre-arranged interviews only, with the exception of live coverage of league matches. Your father and the Minister of Magic himself both recommended this course of action, and we have agreed it is probably best to be safe rather than sorry.

The Harpies still feel that you are the best fit for our reserve team and hope that you will join us on Wednesday, 19 August, for our practice session. Practice begins sharply at 8 A.M. Please apparate directly to the practice pitch where you worked on Saturday.

We look forward to seeing you then.

Sincerely,

Gwenog Jones  
Captain, Holyhead Harpies

P.S. You’ll notice I haven’t sent over any of your practice gear or game jersey. I took the liberty of stowing them in your locker so they’ll be ready for you on Wednesday. Don’t let me down!

Ginny let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She was still going to be a Harpy. And not only that, but she’d get to wear Potter on her jersey. She squealed and flung herself into Harry’s arms.

“I’m going to be a Harpy!” she exclaimed before capturing Harry in a short but searing kiss, uncaring of her family in the room. She pulled away with a mile-wide grin on her face.

“I’m going to be a Harpy!” she said again as she grabbed her box of goodies and dashed up the stairs to put her things in her room, cries of “I’m going to be a Harpy!” following her as she went.

Harry Potter, husband of future famous Quidditch star Ginny Potter smiled as he heard his wife skipping around in their room upstairs. They had a long road ahead of them, to be sure, but Ginny was still Ginny, and better yet, she was his Ginny, and in a thought that echoed what she’d said only minutes before, he wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.


	21. Chapter 21

Sunday, August 23, was a lazy day for Harry and Ginny. The whole family tended to sleep a bit later on Sundays, but it was especially true for the young couple. Ginny had been at Harpies practice all day yesterday, trying to get herself into top shape before the start of the season, which would be in just under a month. Ordinarily, Saturday practices would only be a half day, but since Ginny was new, she was having special training to bring her up to speed.

When she’d finally arrived home yesterday, she was sweaty, sore, hungry, and exhausted. Harry didn’t know which problem to help with first, but she answered that question for him by immediately digging into the plate Molly had saved her from dinner. He should have known. Nothing comes between a Weasley and food. Not even if that Weasley is now a Potter.

After shoveling her dinner down so quickly that even Ron would have been impressed, she took a hot, but very quick shower, and went immediately to bed, pausing only long enough to let Harry give her a tender kiss and an “I love you.”

He had stayed up a bit longer talking to Ron and Hermione. Ron had been going into the shop with George sometimes, and Hermione was frantically studying her notes from 6th year to refresh her memory before she went back to Hogwarts. They’d still made sure to take some time to spend with each other, though, even if it was a bit different than it had been before. The dynamic wasn’t quite the same, now that Ron and Hermione had a bond that Harry couldn’t share, and Harry was married, but they were still able to converse as close friends like they always had. It was strange, though, not having an evil plot to foil or a Dark Lord to hunt. They almost didn’t know what to talk about.

The best time of his days, though, was always when he would get to spend a few moments with Ginny. It was hard, now that she was being pushed to her limits every day. She often came home so exhausted that, try as she might, she couldn’t stay awake long enough to really enjoy her time with him. But, Harry knew that these extra-long sessions wouldn’t last forever, and that, even if she was busy, he still loved his wife, as strange as it still was to call her that.

They had both been looking forward to Sunday, when they’d finally get a chance to relax and be together.

Harry sighed as he looked at Ginny sleeping in the bed beside him. Her head still lay comfortably on his chest with her body nestled in the crook of his arm. Her left hand was splayed over his heart and her left leg was hooked around his. His left arm wrapped around her body, holding her close to him. Slowly, so as not to wake her, he reached over with his free hand and twirled a few locks of her copper hair through his fingers, watching as the sunlight filtered through the window and lit the strands with a golden fire.

He wasn’t sure what he’d ever done to deserve someone as beautiful as her. She was ivory and flame, with the perfect petite figure that fit well with his own smaller-than-average frame. Her eyes were deep pools of Honeyduke’s finest chocolate, and her smile could light even the darkest of rooms.

Her hands were small, but firm, and he loved the way she raked them through his hair or over his shoulders when they were kissing. Her body was lithe, but athletic, giving it a tone that most women could only hope to possess, while maintaining the curves that continued to catch Harry’s eye, as gentlemanly as he tried to be.

But what attracted Harry even more than her beauty was her spirit. He’d never met anyone who challenged him for stubbornness, but Ginny did, and frequently bested him at it. She was more kind and compassionate than any person had any right to be, but she never let herself get walked over, not after the events of her first year. It had hardened her, and made her stronger, but not in such a way that made her cruel or haughty.

She didn’t let him wallow in grief or guilt, as he was wont to do. She always knew how to make him laugh, sometimes even at his own expense. She was brave, and bold, and…well, even Harry couldn’t deny that all these things made her downright sexy.

And he was married to her. Better, bonded to her. Forever.

He’d tried to deny it to himself, tried to convince himself that they weren’t really married because he wasn’t really ready to be married, not to anyone, even if it was Ginny. But that didn’t stop reality. The truth of the situation is that this woman, the fantastic, beautiful, indomitable woman lying next to him, was his wife. His wife. And she had somehow become the most precious thing to him in the entire world in the space of only a dozen days.

She was so peaceful and innocent while she slept, and he treasured every second he was able to watch her do it. She was so vivacious, and usually woke before he did, so he didn’t often get the chance. He loved her when she was awake, but there was a vulnerability about her when she was asleep that made him treasure her and love her even more.

He felt it, in the very center of him. Her life burned with a flame that sparked and leapt, an eager flame. He couldn’t imagine his life without that flame. He couldn’t remember how he’d gone through the last seventeen years without it. It was so much a part of him that he could no longer leave Ginny and her life behind than he could cut out his own heart and leave it on the ground.

He idly played with the fingers of her left hand, which rested over his heart.

Wife.

He had a wife.

He’d never, in his wildest dreams, thought he’d have a wife. The Dursley’s made him feel as if no one would ever want to be his wife, and once he realized he was marked by Voldemort, he figured he’d never live long enough to have the opportunity, anyway.

When they were dating, Ginny had asked him about his long-term plans, his dreams. He’d always said he wanted to be an Auror, but, for him, it was more of a means-to-an-end. If he hadn’t defeated Voldemort by the time he finished school, he’d have to be an Auror to get the training he needed to win.

But he’d already won. The battle was over. No more training required.

Now what would he do? He could do anything! He could do nothing!

But, no, he thought he might still like to be an Auror. There was just something satisfying about the thought of bringing down bad guys, ridding the world of evil, and all that. But what would that mean for Ginny? Could he put himself in danger knowing that her life would be empty and miserable if he died? Could he take that chance every day, with the understanding of what may happen to her? Was it worth it?

What if…what if they had kids one day? Could he leave them without a father? Could he leave Ginny alone to raise them by herself? How many would there be, anyway? Would it make a difference?

But, what if he didn’t become an Auror? What if he didn’t and people died because he wasn’t brave enough to take the risk and protect them? Would he ever be able to live with himself?

Harry shook his head.

He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about his future. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He only knew one thing for certain.

He wanted Ginny in it.

He was ashamed at his breakdown on Ginny’s birthday when they’d found out they were legally married. He knew his reaction had hurt her, much as she’d tried to hide it, but they both felt the desire to take this relationship at their own pace, not the pace dictated by the bond.

Still, it hurt him to know he’d hurt her.

He hadn’t meant to. Being married to Ginny wasn’t a bad thing; it just wasn’t what he was expecting. He’d thought about asking her someday, in some grand gesture with a beautiful ring, and then they’d come back and announce it to the whole family at supper, and it would be lovely. Someday.

Now they were married, the entire wizarding world knew, but they had nothing to show for it, and if anyone asked her how it happened, she wouldn’t even have a romantic story to tell.

Whether it was because of the bond, or because of the war, or just because he loved her so much, he found that he genuinely wanted to be married to her, and he wanted her to know that. He’d show her. Soon. In a way she’d never forget. He just had to get some things first.

He made a mental note to talk to Ron later. And Bill. He’d need Bill’s help, too, he supposed. He’d be the best person to ask, actually, as he had experience with this sort of thing, but he’d never consider doing it without Ron. After all, he still had to make up to his friend for finding out about his marriage from Rita Skeeter. He’d be sure to talk to him as soon as possible.

Ginny distracted him from his musings as she sighed and slid her hand up to Harry’s neck. He turned his head towards her and was rewarded with the sight of her blinking her brown eyes open. She smiled a sleepy smile at him as her hand found the back of his neck and gently played with the hair there.

“Good morning,” he greeted her.

“Morning,” she mumbled back.

He chuckled as he leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. She tilted her head up as he was pulling away in an unspoken request for a better kiss, and he happily obliged.

“Mmmmmm…” she hummed as she broke the gentle kiss. “How long have you been awake?”

“I dunno. Wasn’t exactly watching the clock.”

“What were you doing then?” she asked as she snuggled closer into him and gazed up at his face.

“Thinking, mostly.”

“About what?”

He paused for a moment before answering.

“The future.”

“Mmmm,” Ginny murmured. “Deep stuff. Anything I should know about?”

“I love you. That’s the most important thing.”

Ginny smiled and stretched up to kiss him.

“I love you too, Harry.”

“Seriously, Gin, I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Ever.”

“Oh, Harry,” Ginny looked up at him through her lashes, “I love you so much. I can’t even express how much. It’s…it’s really good to hear you say it back.”

“I plan to tell you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“I don’t think I’ll complain about that.”

“Good,” Harry said, as he wrapped Ginny in a tighter embrace.

They lay like that for a few minutes in comfortable silence. As the minutes wore on, however, Ginny could tell that Harry was worried about something. He was trying to hold it back but it was leaking through the bond, and she rubbed a soothing hand across his chest.

“Talk to me, Harry.”

He sighed and sat up, pulling them both to lean against the headboard, but still keeping her wrapped in his arms.

“I’m trying to decide if I still want to be an Auror. Admissions testing is in September, and Kingsley wants me to join, but, with the bond, I don’t know if I should.”

Ginny sat up and looked at him.

“Harry James Potter, why on earth would this bond stop you from being an Auror?” Ginny asked incredulously.

“Because I know what it feels like to feel your life burning away inside me. What if…what if that was gone? What if I went out on a mission one day and never came back? I know I wouldn’t survive if I couldn’t feel you. How could I take that risk knowing how it would make you feel?”

“You’ve done it before, if you recall.”

Harry thought back to that agonized wail he heard when he was lying still in Hagrid’s arms, the wail that he knew belonged to Ginny.

“Yes, and you tried to throw yourself in front of Bellatrix Lestrange because of it. Not exactly the best example. And, I didn’t know about the bond then. I would never have gone into that forest if I had,” he replied resolutely.

“Well it’s good that you didn’t, then, because we never would have been rid of him.”

“Yes, but that situation isn’t likely to come up ever again. They don’t need me now like they needed me then. What if I want to live a nice quiet life for once?”

Ginny chuckled as she stroked his cheek.

“And what would you do with a nice quiet life? I know you’re going stir crazy here stuck in the house with Hermione and Mum all day. And can you honestly see yourself sitting behind a desk filing papers like Percy does?”

“I could help George,” Harry suggested. “The shop could use another pair of hands.”

“Maybe. But I doubt that would keep you entertained for long. You’re not like George, Harry. Shop keeping and inventing aren’t your thing.”

Harry sighed.

“I know. And the thing is, I think I’d be a decent Auror, you know? Not the best, maybe, but I think I could do it. Not sure if I can get in without the NEWTs, but it’s at least worth a try, yeah? But I’m not sure I can walk into danger every day and leave you behind.”

“Harry, if I am the reason that you want to give up on the Aurors, then you need to find a different reason, because I won’t allow it. I think you’d be a brilliant Auror. I think you could even run the department one day, if you wanted to. You’re such a natural with defensive spells and your instincts are better than anyone I’ve seen. You’ve got a knack for ending up in life-threatening situations and still managing to come out alive. And they do need you. I say go for it. When the opportunity comes, go take the tests. Talk to Kingsley about the NEWTs, see what you need to do. I won’t let you give this dream up for me.”

Harry looked at her with a smile.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” Ginny replied as she watched his smile grow.

Suddenly, he grabbed her and turned, pinning her to the bed as he kissed her with a smile. Ginny giggled as he planted small, quick kisses all over her face and neck, playfully swatting at him with her hands before he grabbed them in one of his own and pinned them above her head.

His kisses slowed down and her giggles faded as he brought his lips back to hers with a slow and tender kiss that made her whole body melt.

The fire that lit her core burned through her as her lips moved with his. He propped up on his elbow and slid his hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in the gossamer strands that were still mussed from sleep. His grip on her hands slackened and she immediately brought one hand up to the back of his neck, and pulled him even closer, as her other hand slid under his shirt to rest on the curve of his back, his warm skin flaming beneath her touch.

Harry let out a small moan as her hand came into contact with his bare skin and he slipped his own around behind her back to match. Since that night before her Harpies tryout, Harry had been more and more bold about touching her bare back and the contact always sent a thrill down Ginny’s spine.

Ginny shuddered as she felt the fire in their bond flare at the skin-to-skin contact and Harry’s hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck as he pulled his lips away from hers. Harry kissed a trail around her jawline down to that place on the base of her neck that he knew she liked. Ginny’s sharp intake of breath and the flare across their bond let him know he’d reached the right spot.

Ginny sighed as Harry kissed and nipped until she pulled his face back to her own and crashed her lips against his. Their tongues danced together and Harry’s hand slid from her back to her hip, his thumb caressing the skin above the waistband of her pajama pants.

Ginny moaned as he gripped her hip tightly and wrapped one of her legs around his. They may have stayed that way forever, or possibly gone farther, if it wasn’t for the creak of floorboards in the room above them.

Harry pulled back from her quickly, and scooted a short distance away to put a gap between them on the bed.

Ginny huffed and rolled towards him.

“It’s okay for us to be snogging, Harry. We’re married, remember?”

“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

Ginny scowled and a wave of irritation crashed across their bond.

“No! No, not like that! I mean, I feel bad snogging you, in our bed, in your mother’s house. I mean, she took me in and gave me a place to live. I feel a bit like I’m taking advantage of that, you know? Plus there was that bit your dad said about minding their boundaries or something.”

Ginny sighed and rested her head on his chest. Despite his reluctance to continue kissing her, Ginny could feel his heart racing and knew, through the bond, that he’d like nothing more than to stay exactly where he’d been, doing exactly what they’d been doing for as long as he could. All day, if possible, which Ginny thought it very well may be.

“How long is it going to take you to feel comfortable with this, Harry?” she asked.

Harry sighed for perhaps the hundredth time that morning.

“I don’t know. It may never happen. I just…I just can’t do this sort of thing in your mum’s house.”

“Then we need to find our own house.”

Harry looked at her incredulously.

“What?”

“You heard me, Harry. If you can’t be comfortable kissing me because we’re in Mum’s house, then I don’t want to live in Mum’s house, anymore.”

“But…wait. Can we talk about this? I don’t think…” Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “I don’t think we’re ready to move out, yet.”

“Why not?” Ginny asked.

“Loads of reasons. I’m not nearly as good a cook as your mum. We don’t have anything to furnish a house with. I don’t have a job. What if we don’t like any of the houses we already own? Are we prepared to buy a new one? And…and well, to be honest, I think it’s good for us to be here right now. I’m not…I’m not ready to…well…”

“To have sex?”

Harry’s face flamed. That was one of the reasons he loved her. She always knew exactly what he was trying to say, and wasn’t afraid to put things bluntly.

“Well, yes. And I’m afraid that if we’re on our own…Merlin, Gin, you don’t know how attractive you are to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop, and I honestly don’t think we’re ready yet, married or not. I mean, are you? Because I’m not.”

Ginny took a deep breath.

“No. Probably not. I like to think I am, but it will change so many things, you know? I’ve loved you for so long that I wonder if I’m capable of waiting anymore, but even with the bond, this relationship is still so new that I don’t want to ruin it. I still don’t really want you seeing me naked, as much as I tease you about it when I’m changing, but I don’t want to wait forever.”

Harry released a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I don’t either. But I want the timing to be right. I don’t want it to be because we feel like we’re obligated or that it’s suddenly okay because we’re married. Merlin, Gin, I wouldn’t be kissing you like this if it wasn’t for the fact that we are married, and I think that, without that, we’d never even consider taking that step, yet. It’s not time.”

“When, do you think?” Ginny asked shyly.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “Honestly, if things keep going at the pace they’ve been going, it could be next week, for all I know. I’d like it to be closer to six months, at least, but I’m realistic enough to know that I don’t think I can wait that long. I’ve…well…I’m planning something, but it’s a secret, and, well, I think maybe it’ll change some things.”

Ginny perked up.

“A secret? You know you can’t keep secrets from me, Harry Potter,” Ginny said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That’s why I told you I’m planning something. You’ll know that much anyway. But I’m not telling you what I’m planning, and you’ll never get it out of me, so don’t even try.”

“Oh, I’m going to try. Are you ticklish, Mr. Potter?” Ginny asked with an ear-to-ear smile.

“Not as ticklish as you, Mrs. Potter!” Harry exclaimed, and before she had a chance to react, Harry had her pinned to the bed screaming with laughter as he sat over her and tickled her mercilessly.

Neither of them heard the footsteps descending the stairs or the whispered debate outside their door, as their joined laughter made it hard to hear much but each other. They did, however, hear the knock on the door, and Harry called out for whomever it was to come in, not stopping his wife’s torture for a second.

Ron and Hermione opened the door cautiously before Ron walked in and addressed his friend.

“Bloody hell, Harry! Haven’t you ever heard of a silencing charm?”

“Why would I need one?”

“Because I don’t want to hear whatever it is the two of you get up to in here!”

Harry stopped tickling Ginny and leaned back, allowing her to catch her breath, but keeping a gentle pressure on her knees and arms so she still couldn’t escape.

“And how are you hearing us all the way up in your room? Isn’t it, what, two, three floors up?” Harry asked with a sly smile.

“Errr…that is…well, I was visiting Hermione this morning, you know, for a chat, and, well, I heard you from there. She’s just above you.”

Hermione’s face had gone beet red but Harry only smiled at her.

“Right,” he responded to Ron. “Of course. Perfectly logical, except that I swear I heard two sets of footsteps in there late last night.” Ron and Hermione’s faces were now both roughly the shade of Ginny’s hair. “However, Ginny and I weren’t doing anything that needed silencing, as you can see.”

“Yes, what exactly are you doing, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Tickling her.”

“Why?”

“Because Harry’s got a secret and I’m trying to get it out of him!” Ginny piped up from where she was still trapped beneath Harry’s knees.

“So then why are you the one pinned?” Ron asked with a chuckle.

“Because I’m faster!” Harry announced jovially as he lunged to tickle her again. Ginny was prepared this time, and twisted out from under him before reaching out to tickle him. Harry’s reflexes allowed him to dodge and he stood quickly from the bed, running from the room, Ginny hot on his heels as he laughed that she’d never get it out of him.

They left Ron and Hermione gaping in the shared room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so…”

“Happy,” Ron finished.

“Playful,” Hermione added.

“Carefree.”

“He’s positively giddy!” Hermione remarked, astonished.

“He really loves her,” Ron remarked, with an air of disbelief.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really think he does. And there’s no question she loves him back.”

“No. Never was, really.”

Ron sighed as he ran his hand through his hair in an unconscious imitation of his best mate.

“They’ll be okay together, won’t they? It’s not too soon?” he asked.

“They’ll be fine, Ron. It’s not what they planned, but this soul bond seems to be good for them.”

“Do you…do you ever wish something like that had happened to us? I mean, look at how happy they are. Don’t you wish we could be like that?”

It was Hermione’s turn to sigh as she curled under Ron’s outstretched arm as the two of them leaned against the wall, still sanding in Harry and Ginny’s room.

“What’s to say we can’t be? I’m happy when I’m with you. It’s just…everything’s been accelerated for them. Maybe in a few years we’ll be as carefree as they are.”

“You think we’ll have a few years?” Ron asked tentatively, tightening his arm around Hermione’s shoulders slightly.

“I don’t know. I hope so. I’ve waited too long to let you go without giving this a fair chance,” Hermione replied quietly.

“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon, either.”

Ron curled Hermione into him and kissed her deeply. She let out a quiet noise of contentment as she grabbed a fistful of his hair, already mussed from their early morning “conversation.” They may have continued in this manner for some time if it hadn’t been for the infamous Weasley appetite.

Ron’s stomach grumbled at the faint smell of bacon beginning to waft from the kitchen. Hermione pulled away with a giggle.

“Shall we go see if your mum’s finished making breakfast yet?”

“You are the most wonderful witch in the world. I thought you’d never ask.”

Ron kissed Hermione quickly on the lips and then practically dragged her down the steps toward the kitchen, where they could still hear Harry and Ginny’s laughter. Both their smiles were as wide as they’d ever been.


	22. Chapter 22

Harry stood silently surveying the contents of the Potter family vault with his two best friends on Monday morning.

Ginny had left for practice, and as Harry was asking Ron if he’d be willing to pay a visit to Bill with him, Hermione’s Hogwarts letter soared through the window and she’d immediately declared that a trip to Diagon Alley was in order for all three.

So, after a long and uncomfortable meeting with the goblins, and more than a little interference on Bill’s part, along with some of the sincerest apologies Harry had ever made, they’d finally allowed the three to visit Harry’s vault, with a sizeable contingent of armed goblins, of course.

He’d not yet told either of them why he’d insisted on stopping here first, nearly rushing through the throngs of students to get into the bank without being seen by the press. He rather thought Hermione had guessed, based on the barely-contained gleeful smile on her face, but Ron, as yet, seemed to still be oblivious to his designs.

Harry walked past rows of ornate furniture and artwork, giving them barely a glance as he sought what he knew would be hidden there somewhere. He’d seen it on the bank ledger and hadn’t given it much thought, but after his epiphany of yesterday morning, he’d decided to give it a bit of a closer look.

“Blimey, Harry. I didn’t know you had all this stuff,” Ron breathed.

“Me neither. Not until Bill came by with the joint ownership papers for Ginny and I to sign. This is my parents’ vault that I should have gotten last year, except, well, that didn’t happen, obviously.”

“Right,” Ron said, as he glanced at a pair of crossed swords hanging on a golden shield. He shook his head. “So what are we looking for anyway?” He asked as he followed Harry deeper into the vault.

“Jewelry,” Harry replied curtly.

“I didn’t know you were the jewelry type, mate,” Ron teased.

“Oh hush, Ron. It’s for Ginny, obviously,” Hermione retorted. “I think I’ve found some here, Harry,” she said as she gestured towards a table covered in boxes spilling with strands of gold and pearls.

“Perfect,” Harry breathed. He walked to the table and slowly opened each jewelry case, exposing everyday jewelry and special pieces alike. He’d poke through each box for a moment, then close it with a frown and move on.

Ron pulled a gorgeous strand of pearls from a bowl at the center of the table and let out a low whistle.

“What about this one, Harry?”

Harry glanced up briefly before shaking his head and continuing his search. Ron frowned and creased his eyebrows, looking to Hermione curiously at Harry’s rejection of such a lovely piece of jewelry. Hermione looked back at him knowingly just as Harry lifted the lid of a long, flat box and let out a delighted cry.

Ron placed the necklace back in the bowl and moved around the table to see what his friend had found. Inside the box lay a selection of glittering rings with gems of all colors and sizes. The box appeared to be magically expanded, as Harry lifted out the top tray to reveal another selection of rings below it. He spread them out across the table until all the trays were removed, leaving six trays full of rings for him to choose from.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for, Harry?” Ron asked with a slight air of astonished sarcasm.

“Yeah, a ring for your sister, actually. Thought you might like to help me pick it out,” Harry replied with a cheeky grin.

“You do know she’s already married to you, right?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, but…well, I want to do it properly, you know. Give her a ring and all that. Have an actual wedding. I thought, well, I thought this might make it a bit more real, you know?”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione gushed. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.” She threw her arms around Harry, crushing him in a bruising hug. After a second of shock, Harry returned the hug.

“Thanks. It’s, you know, a secret for now. But I knew there were a lot of rings down here and I thought I could use your help going through them all.”

“No problem,” Hermione replied with a smile as the three set to work sifting through the collection of rings.

They very quickly discovered that not all of them were of decent quality, so they created a rather large “no” pile pretty quickly. Also added to the pile was anything with a setting too large or gaudy. Ginny was a petite girl with slender fingers, and a giant, gaudy ring would look ridiculous. Not to mention she’d hate it. Also discarded were emeralds and rubies. Rubies, because there were none that could compare to the color of her hair, Harry stated with a reddened face, and emeralds because she’d once told him that the only emeralds she wanted in her life were his eyes. It was a cliché and funny thing to say at the time, but Harry had known that she was also serious, and so he didn’t even consider them.

After a short while they were left with a still quite sizeable collection of rings with an assortment of stones. Harry glanced over the assorted rings, thinking which would look best on Ginny’s hand.

“You should look at the yellow gold, not the white gold or platinum,” Hermione said. “The warm yellow will look better with her red-gold hair.”

Harry nodded, agreeing as he and Ron moved all the white gold and platinum rings to a different tray.

“Ginny doesn’t like diamonds,” Ron said, after a second. “She’s always thought they were too common. I just remembered, she used to say that about Fleur’s ring.”

They removed the rings with diamonds. Harry was left with only a handful of rings, and suddenly, one seemed to catch his eye. He picked it up and examined it closely.

It was old, by the look of it, but in fine shape. The stone didn’t wiggle, and the gold band was still smooth and shiny. He showed it to Ron, who nodded his approval, and to Hermione, who said it was lovely as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. He chose some matching wedding bands from the tray of unadorned rings they’d separated out earlier, and placed all three rings in a white ring box he found in a pile on a nearby table. He dropped the box into his pocket, and sighed as a brilliant smile began to spread across his face.

He had the rings. Now he just had to find the right moment.

_____________________________ ________________________________________ _____________________________________

Ginny’s practices were brutal, but she was slowly becoming used to them. At first, the physical pace had completely exhausted her. She wasn’t accustomed to what one of her muggle-born teammates called “cardio,” which typically meant running laps around the field or doing some other strenuous task that generally made Ginny feel like her heart was about to explode from her chest and her lungs were fit to burst. Those first few days, it was all Ginny could do to make her tired and sore legs carry her up the stairs to her room.

In fact, on one of the first days, she’d been unable to and Harry had had to carry her. It was nice, but she was never one for weakness, and worked hard so that she’d be able to move her own weight up the stairs with ease. She still huffed and puffed more than she thought was probably healthy when she ran at training, but at least her legs didn’t feel like jelly and she didn’t collapse when she was finished with her required distance. Improvement is improvement, and Ginny would take it.

Besides that, she’d already begun to see the changes that regular exercise was having on her body. Though her workouts wore her out, after she recovered, which was taking less and less time each day, she had far more energy than she used to. She also slept like an absolute baby. When her energy finally ran out in the evenings, she would snuggle up to Harry, or sometimes go to bed early, and she’d sleep deeply until morning.

The nightmares that had been plaguing her for years seemed to abate even more than they had been already.

Sleeping next to Harry was satisfying in many ways, not the least of which was because, since they’d begun sharing a bed, both of them had noticed a marked decrease in their nightly terrors. That isn’t to say bad dreams didn’t happen. They certainly did. But having each other to hold at night seemed to stem the tide a bit.

Once Ginny had started working out with the team, her nightmares went away almost entirely.

She shared this exciting news with Harry, and yesterday he’d woken up early with her to make her breakfast, as usual, but instead of pottering around the house like he typically did when she left, when he felt her heartbeat quicken across their bond, he went outside and ran around the Burrow just as she was running at the practice pitch.

Despite being the conqueror of Voldemort, Boy-Who-Lived (twice), and Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter was not, in fact, in shape.

Quidditch, without the added exercise, didn’t do much to build muscle, as it required very little in the way of actual physical exertion, and growing up so deprived with the Dursley’s had stunted Harry’s growth and kept him from developing a proper physique for a boy his age.

Poor Harry was rather similar to a bean-pole, though not a very tall one.

He was quick, though, always had been. A lifetime of running from Dudley and his gang had kept at least his leg muscles in shape. His quickness had also come in handy several times since then, to be sure. So, running with Ginny, while certainly not easy, was an activity that Harry found he rather enjoyed.

Especially when he found that his nightmares had faded to nearly nothing, as well.

And so began the routine. Ginny and Harry would wake early. Harry or Molly, if she happened to be up, would cook breakfast, with Ginny’s assistance, and they’d sit down to eat. Ginny would apparate to Hollyhead with her newly-acquired apparation license, and Harry would go put on some comfortable clothes and tidy their room (he’d quickly learned that, while he was not a particularly orderly person, Ginny was absolutely disastrous, and if one of them didn’t tidy up every day, their room would quickly dissolve into more chaos than Harry could comfortably stand). When he felt Ginny getting started on her run, he would jog out to the open yard, stretch his legs, and join her on her morning jog.

In the afternoons, he, Ron, and Hermione would sit around and talk or play a game, enjoying the time they had together. On days when Hermione and Ron would go to Hermione’s parents, Harry would spend the afternoon with Teddy at Andromeda’s. When Ginny returned home, they’d share dinner, talk for a bit, then retire to bed, where they would sleep deeply and, almost always, peacefully, before waking up and doing the whole thing again.

Before they could blink, it was September 1st. Since Hermione was the only one returning to school, the usual flurry of activity was absent. Instead, it started like any other day. Ginny had been unable to take a day off practice, seeing as she was still so new, so Harry and Ron had been the only ones to go with her to the platform.

Harry and Ron had thought she’d want to walk through the barrier one last time, but Hermione surprised them both when she insisted that they just apparate directly to 9 & ¾ .

“After all,” she had said, “the whole year is going to be different without you two. No point trying to pretend it’s going to be the same as it always was.”

She’d said it in her typical no-nonsense way, but both boys could clearly see the tears shining in her eyes and the hint of a tremble in her chin.

Ron grabbed her hand in an iron grip, his own gaze suspiciously shiny, and gave her a firm nod. As Harry grabbed her other hand, she whisked the three of them away, together, appearing with a pop on a crowded platform next to a scarlet steam engine.

Harry’s arrival had gone unnoticed as people were popping in and out all over the place. For once in his life, he was just one of many.

But the anonymity didn’t last long.

“Harry!” he heard over the din of the bustling students. “Harry! Over here!”

Harry turned his head towards the voice and smiled as he saw the lanky Neville Longbottom waving his arms in the air. Neville’s smile was so genuine that Harry couldn’t be mad at him, even though a large number of the crowd had now turned to look at him, and their whispers and stares followed him as he and his friends weaved through the traffic of the platform.

Harry greeted Neville with a handshake, but the taller boy pulled him into a hug instead. Neville pulled back and laughed, regarding Harry and Ron with curious gazes.

“Didn’t think I’d see the two of you here, today. Decided to go back?”

“Not us, no. Just here to see Hermione off,” Ron replied with a grin. “You know me. Chance to be done with school, not something I’m about to pass up.”

“What are you doing here, Neville?” Hermione asked. “I know last year wasn’t exactly a proper year, but I didn’t think you’d be coming back either.”

Neville scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, I’m not really. I’m here with Luna, actually. We’ve been owling this summer and I thought I’d come say goodbye, since, well, her father can’t, you know?”

“What’s happened to Mr. Lovegood?” Hermione asked, her face a sudden mask of concern.

“Oh nothing, really, it’s just that he’s still recovering from when the Death Eaters threw him in Azkaban. Doesn’t like crowded spaces much. Doesn’t like leaving the house at all, really, but especially not to train platforms packed with wizards. I offered to come in his place, and Luna accepted.”

There was an awkward silence as the friends processed this news. Harry, Ron, and Hermione felt suddenly guilty at the role they’d played in Xenophilius’s imprisonment, but they hadn’t had much other option at the time.

They were roused from their ponderings by the ethereal voice of Luna.

“My things are all settled, Neville. Thanks for coming with me. Oh, hello, everyone. How were your summers?”

“Good, Luna, how was yours?” Hermione replied.

“It was alright. After Daddy and his friend fixed our house, I spent most of the time down by the creek searching for Gesaelig Geckos. There’s an infestation of Forhtian Flies in our house, see, and the Gesaelig Geckos love to eat Forhtian Flies.”

“Of course,” said Ron tentatively. “Did you, er, find any?”

“Gesaelig Geckos? No, I’m afraid I didn’t. But then, Neville started coming round with flowers and replanting our garden and the Forhtian Flies weren’t such a bother anymore.”

“Well…that’s, er…that’s lovely, Luna,” said Harry uncertainly. “What exactly are Forhtian Flies?”

“Oh, they are most unpleasant. We had a nasty case of them after Mum passed, as well. They make it ever so difficult to smile, and sometimes you even get the shakes, and…”

Luna’s voice faded to the background as Harry turned to his left, a surprised smile slowly appearing on his face.

“Oh, good,” Luna sighed, “he is whole again. I had wondered if he’d been attacked by a Buzzing Snicklifter over the summer, but I see the missing piece has arrived,” Luna remarked as a sweaty and breathless Ginny arrived at Harry’s side, still wearing her Harpies practice gear.

“Gwenog let me off for a bit. The other girls are taking an extended lunch, and she said I could pop over to say goodbye. I’ve only got a second, though. It’s so good to see you, Luna!” the redhead said as she engulfed her enigmatic friend in a tight hug.

“It’s lovely to see you as well, Ginny. Your aura is positively radiant. It’s good to see you looking whole.”

Ginny smiled and took a step back, unconsciously putting herself within Harry’s reach. He snaked a hand around her waist, even as he chatted idly to Neville. Luna’s smile brightened as she saw the interaction.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the chatter. The platform became a flurry of activity as people rushed to say their last goodbyes.

Ginny gave a final hug to Luna, and with a wave to her friends, the blonde fairly skipped onto the train, planting a quick kiss on Neville’s cheek just before she boarded. The boy became suddenly shy as he kept his eyes squarely on the most interesting speck of floor he’d ever seen, but nobody missed the tell-tale reddening of his ears and they politely muffled their quiet chuckles.

Hermione captured each of her friends in a crushing hug, her tears no longer restrained as she said her final goodbyes. Harry, Ginny, and Neville moved away to give her and Ron a moment of privacy, inasmuch as such a thing could be accomplished on a crowded train platform bursting with students and families.

Heedless of the crowd, Ron bent down and pulled Hermione to him, crushing her to his chest as his lips found hers. The normally shy and proper Hermione seemed to throw decorum out the window as she wrapped both hands around his neck, tangling one in his vibrant red hair and pulling him even closer.

Ginny laid her head on Harry’s chest at the sight of her brother and best friend preparing to be parted from each other for so long. Once again, she was glad of her decision not to finish Hogwarts. She knew she’d never survive the year without Harry there with her, especially now that they had their bond, which needed nearly constant nurturing through proximity and physical touch.

Ron and Hermione separated reluctantly as the second whistle blew, announcing the imminent departure of the train. Using his thumbs, Ron wiped the tears from her cheeks, gave her a last, lingering kiss, and pushed her up on to the train, even as it started to roll away. Hermione stood in the doorway and waved until she couldn’t see them anymore, and the four friends watched as the bright red engine disappeared around the corner, a cloud of steam billowing in its wake.


	23. Chapter 23

They quickly fell back into their routine, but with Hermione gone, Ron seemed to be getting more agitated day by day. When, on the fourth day after her departure, Ron joined Harry on his morning jog, Harry merely smiled at him, and set about showing him the proper way to stretch to be sure he wouldn’t get a cramp later.

On the seventh day, when Ron’s agitation still hadn’t quite abated, he suggested adding dueling to their morning exercises. Harry obliged.

In this way, Harry, Ron, and Neville, who had joined them on day eight after an owl from Harry, began to prepare for Auror testing.

Kingsley had sent over the details the previous Saturday, and the tests had been scheduled for September 21, only a couple weeks away.

Harry, Ginny, and Ron woke even earlier than usual that day. Bleary eyed, they stumbled into the kitchen, only to find Mrs. Weasley already up and making breakfast for them. Mr. Weasley, usually still asleep at this time of the morning, was sitting at the table, calmly reading the early edition of the Prophet.

“Morning, family!” Arthur greeted jovially.

“Morning,” they mumbled back.

Molly set three plates loaded with food onto the table in front of the three teens.

“Big day today, eh boys?” Arthur asked as he turned the page of the paper.

Harry nodded as Ron grunted a reply to his father.

“Ready for your exams?”

Ginny scoffed. “I can’t imagine there are any two more qualified wizards than these two, three, if you count Neville. And they’ve been practicing for weeks now. If they’re not qualified, then the Auror department has gone completely barmy.”

“Just because I defeated Voldemort doesn’t mean I’m a walk-on, Gin. There was a fair amount of luck involved. In fact, there’s been a fair amount of luck every time I’ve fought him.”

“Yes, but the fact that you used the phrase ‘every time I’ve fought him’ says a bit about your ability and determination to stand up to evil, doesn’t it? And you are quite talented,” Ginny soothed, placing a hand on his back. “No other thirteen-year-old I have ever known can produce a full Patronus, much less teach a group of misfits how to do it at age fifteen. The fact that you fought Voldemort to a stalemate using only the basics starting in your first year has to mean something. You’ve got talent, Harry, and more than a little determination. I told you before, I think you could run the department, one day. With the way you taught the DA, they’d be foolish to give the job to anyone else.”

“I think I should focus on getting into the Corps before I start trying to run it,” Harry said with a skeptical laugh.

“Don’t worry, son,” Arthur remarked. “You’re not expected to be in top form today. What they want to see today is that you’ve got raw skill and that you’re trainable. They’ll teach you the rest. You’ve already got a leg-up on the others with your ability to move about undetected, if any of what you three were up to last year is to be believed. Ron, that goes for you, too. You’ll both do fine.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ron said. “Why are you up so early?”

“Thought I’d walk you in this morning, if that’s alright. I know you’re grown men and you might rather go on your own, but I’d like to escort you, anyway. Indulge your father, would you, boys?”

“That’d be great, Mr. Weasley. Thanks,” Harry replied sincerely.

“It’s Arthur, son, for the millionth time. Or, well, you’re a part of the family now, officially, though you’ve been unofficially a part of it for years. If you don’t like calling me Arthur, you’re welcome to call me Dad like the rest of the boys.”

“I...well...I wouldn’t…” Harry sighed, his red face pointed towards the tabletop. “Thanks, but I’m not really your son, though, so I don’t think that’d be right.”

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley said as she turned from the stove, a blazing look on her face. Arthur held up a hand to stop her before she started. As he did, he turned toward Harry looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him.

“Listen, Harry. Your last name may be Potter, and your hair may be black instead of red, but none of that defines who your family is. Your family are the people you love. They’re the people that you share your life with, and they’re also the people you’d give your life for. I’ve already shown that I’m willing to give my life for you, remember? Christmas, three years ago? I wasn’t risking my life for any hero or Boy-Who-Lived or savior, and I wasn’t protecting the prophecy because I didn’t want Voldemort to have another weapon. I was risking my life, willingly, and happily, for the black haired boy that I’d already come to love as my own son, so that Voldemort wouldn’t have another way to torment you, or, Merlin forbid, kill you. When they brought you out of that forest I felt like I’d just lost another of my boys. I would never try to take the place of James, and Molly would never want to replace Lily in your heart, but both of us love you like our own. You’re not the son we bore, but you are the son we stumbled upon and the son we love. Never, ever, doubt that.

Now, I’m not going to make you call me Dad, and Molly won’t force you to call her Mum, either, but we want you to know that, if it’s easier calling us Mum and Dad like the other boys do, then, well, we’d be happy for you to do that.”

Harry sat in stunned silence, dimly noticing Ginny’s hand gripped in his. He felt her calm and love flowing through him, mixed with a not-insubstantial dose of acceptance and joy that he was finally realizing what it meant to be part of a family.

“Er...well...thanks. I’ll think about it.”

“There’s a lad.” Arthur said with an indulgent smile. “Now, if we want to make a good impression, we’d best be sure to be on time, shouldn’t we? Eat up, boys! Time’s wastin’!”

A short time later found Harry, Ron, and Arthur strolling through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. There was quite a line to check in at the visitors desk, and Harry noted that many of the people in front of him also seemed like the sort that would be invited to Auror exams. More than a few were large, strong, scarred, and, most notably, older than him. Arthur led Harry and Ron to the back of the line, and they patiently waited to be checked in.

It didn’t take long for people to start noticing Harry Potter was at the Ministry. Though he kept his head down, he could feel their stares burning into him even as he heard the whispers begin to fly. He had hardly been seen in public since May, so it was only natural that people would be intrigued. Still, Harry had never much appreciated his fame. He ducked his head lower. His name passed around the room a dozen times before he felt a strong, gentle hand fall on his shoulder.

“Pick your chin up, son,” Arthur admonished gently from Harry’s side. “You saved them. It’s only fair you let them look at the face of their hero.”

“But I’m not a hero. And I really didn’t do much! There’s so much more I should have done,” Harry protested quietly, but fiercely.

“That may be true as you see it, but it isn’t true as they see it. To these people, you are their savior, no matter what you say to the contrary. They just want to see you. To look at the person who defeated the greatest evil most of them have ever known. You don’t have to wave or sign autographs. Just let them see you.”

“But I--”

Harry didn’t get any farther than that as he saw a pair of worn brown shoes approach from the corner of his eye. Wary, he lifted his head to see who the shoes belonged to and his eyes widened.

“Mr. Potter, sir?” the man asked, twisting the sleeve of his shirt in nervousness. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but my name is--”

“Mr. Cattermole. Reg, right?” Harry said, sticking out his hand for the man to shake. “You’re one of the ones we took for polyjuice when we infiltrated the Ministry. It was Ron who took your place that day.” Ron gave a little wave next to Harry, and Reginald Cattermole nodded back. Harry’s cheeks suddenly pinked, and he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Er...sorry about stunning you and dumping you in an alley, by the way.”

“No, no, Mr. Potter, it’s quite alright, really! If- if you hadn’t, my wife, Mary, she wouldn’t have made it out. You saved her and the kids, and me as well! I’m so grateful for what you did. We left just as soon as she was out, while everything was still disorganized. Grabbed the kids and flooed to Mary’s sister’s place in Lisbon. Without you, we’d all be dead now, I’m sure. We owe you so much.”

“I just did what I had to do, Mr. Cattermole. I’m glad everything worked out for your family,” Harry replied quietly. “I wish I could have saved more.”

The room had grown silent and all eyes and ears were turned towards the raven-haired young man and the grateful maintenance worker.

“You’ll have to pardon me, Mr. Potter, but, what more could you have done? Merlin knows you did the best you could given the circumstances. You’re just a boy! And we adults couldn’t get ourselves together well enough to do the job that we should have done and kept him and his filth out of our Ministry. Maybe if we’d fought harder, we could have saved a few ourselves,” Cattermole replied.

Harry shook his head. “You did what you could. If you’d fought back, you would have been imprisoned, Imperioused, or killed. You can’t think that way. You did what you had to do to survive just like anyone would have. You weren’t trained to fight, and if you’d tried, you probably wouldn’t be here today. You were smart enough to get your family out when you could, and that saved their lives just as much as what Ron, Hermione and I did that day. You were more of a hero than I was.”

“No, Mr. Potter. You’re the hero. You and your friends did what the rest of us couldn’t. You might not want to believe it, but we owe you our lives. We wouldn’t have survived much longer, and our society would have crumbled if he’d been allowed to win.”

“Heroes don’t let their friends die, Mr. Cattermole. You kept your family safe, which is more than I can say for myself,” Harry said with a mournful look on his face.

His quiet statement reverberated around the now-silent Atrium. Everything had stopped, and every eye was turned to Harry, eagerly drinking in every word he was saying. The only sounds to be heard were the gentle footfalls of feet trained to be nearly silent, and the even quieter swish of a very austere set of robes across a marble floor.

“Heroism isn’t about saving everyone, Harry,” said a deep voice. All the heads in the Atrium turned to watch as the Minister of Magic himself strode into their midst, his almost silent entrance going completely unnoticed. Dimly, Harry began to register the effects of his conversation on the people around him. Despite the presence of reporters, not a single quill scratched and not a single photograph flashed as Kingsley swept across the room. “Heroism is making an impossible choice for the betterment of man, no matter what it costs. You have done that in a thousand ways since you came back into our world at the tender age of eleven. You have sacrificed more than any other person I know, never selfishly thinking only of what it would cost you to defeat Voldemort, but working hard to prevent costs to others. You aren’t a god, Harry, and you weren’t meant to play the part. You couldn’t save everyone. You were never meant to.” Kingsley continued, now standing directly in front of the young man. “But you could save us, and not a soul here doesn’t owe you their deepest respect for it. You, too, Ron and Arthur,” Kingsley said to the young man who stood, as always, beside Harry and to the diligent, ever-supportive father behind. “The Weasleys have lost much, too much, but we wouldn’t be standing here today without your valiant efforts. We owe the three of you, and many others, a debt of gratitude that we can never hope to repay. As the Minister of Magic and, I hope, a friend, I can only say what everyone here wishes they could say: thank you.”

It was Ron and Arthur’s turn to blush as red as their hair at the compliment from their friend-turned-leader. Then, someone in the back began clapping their hands. The noise swelled and grew across the Atrium until even the Minister himself had joined in the applause. After a moment, Kingsley gestured to those around him as he met Harry’s eyes with a raised eyebrow as if to say, “See? Accept it. You are a hero,” before sweeping the three men out of the line and into a lift to escort them to Auror testing. As the lift began to move, they ascended with the sound of applause and gratitude still ringing in their ears.

******************************* *  
Auror testing proved to be a very different beast from what Harry, Ron, and Neville were expecting. Neville, arriving just before the exam was to start with apologies about crowds in the Atrium and something about the Minister causing a stir, making a sheepish Harry and Ron blush once again, waved to his friends from the back row of chairs in a moderately sized meeting room down the hall from the Auror office.

An older, heavyset man with thinning, mouse brown hair atop his head stood at the front of the room surveying the prospective Aurors. Harry followed his gaze as he nodded approvingly at the older, stronger wizards Harry had observed in the Atrium when they’d first arrived. As the man’s eyes traveled over Harry and Ron, their eyes met and the man gave Harry the slightest scowl. The clock at the back of the room chimed the hour, and the assistant gently closed the door.

“Welcome, recruits!” the man bellowed. “My name is Gawain Robards, and I’m head of the Auror department. I won’t mince words with you. We’re desperate for talented new Aurors. After the sacking of the Ministry last year, I only managed to escape with a handful of Aurors, and lost even more in the battle at Hogwarts. We’re down to a skeleton crew, and there’s still plenty of nasty witches and wizards running about out there that we haven’t rounded up, yet. If you can hold a wand and won’t piss yourselves at the sight of a Death Eater, then you’re in. The rest can be taught.

That being said, each of you will be expected to carry your own weight. There will be no babysitters or mums to cry to if you’re hurt. Each of you will be worked hard, day and night, and no exceptions will be made for celebrities,” Robards gave Harry and Ron a sidelong look that neither missed. “If you don’t hold up under pressure, then that’s it. You’re out. Weakness is a liability to your team, so we won’t have any.

Testing today will be in two sessions. The first will be a large-group battle simulation. You will all go through the door to my left, where you will take a blue or green vest from the wall. The color of your vest will indicate your team. Your objective is to retrieve an object from the other team, while protecting an object of your own. When you are hit with a spell, the vest will shield you from the effects of that spell, but it will glow either yellow or red depending on the type of spell you were hit with. Yellow indicates a spell that would be painful, but not incapacitating. Each time your vest glows yellow, you will be placed under a mild Impediment jinx, to simulate reduced reaction time for pain. Too many yellow hits, and you’ll be too slow to do your team any good. Red indicates a spell that would immediately incapacitate you, such as a stunner. Red vests will freeze you in place until you are revived by a teammate. As we all know, there are some spells that you can’t come back from. If you are hit with one of those, your vest will turn black and immediately portkey you back into this room, so you won’t get stepped on in the heat of battle.

Anything goes in there, boys, except Unforgivables. Your enemy won’t pull their punches, so neither should you. We have a medical team standing by to address any injuries, or you could just try not to get hit. Team strategy is entirely up to you, and, yes, we will be watching. Let’s get started, shall we?”

With that, the men and women around the room rose and filed through the door. With an unspoken agreement, Ron followed Harry and they chose matching blue vests. Both were pleased when, a moment later, Neville summoned the last blue vest from under the nose of a hulking wizard, who scowled as Neville smiled at him, before the man stomped off to join the green team.

Harry looked around at his teammates as he adjusted the straps on his vest. Ron and Neville were known quantities, and he was glad to have them on his side. The others were a complete mystery. Some looked on Harry and his friends with barely-contained glee, clearly thinking they had an automatic advantage, while others frowned at the young men, obviously unsure of their merit. Harry looked to his friends, who merely shrugged, before the three of them turned to listen as Robards strode in.

He surveyed the teams and frowned when he caught sight of the three boys together.

“Split up, boys,” he said gruffly.

They looked at each other, confused. None of them moved.

Robards looked at them. “Now, would be preferable,” he growled.

“Why?” Harry asked.

Robards turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Because I said so. That’s the way it works around here. Command structure is important, and, and I happen to be at the top. You, Mr. Potter, despite what you may think, are so far at the bottom that I can barely even see you.”

Harry shrugged as his face grew hot. “I get that. But, if you don’t mind, I’ve been told what to do by a lot of people who think they know best, but actually don’t, so I’d really just like to know why.”

Robards glared at him with distaste that he either couldn’t or didn’t care to conceal. “It’s not fair to stick all three of you on the same team. Too much inexperience in one place. You’re dooming your team before we even begin. I want an even matchup.”

“Sir!” spoke a voice from behind Harry. He didn’t even turn to look, keeping his eyes steadily trained on the Head Auror. “Respectfully, sir, we don’t mind. If we’re not strong enough to compensate for weaker teammates, then what good are we anyway?” asked the voice.

Robards thought about this for a moment and then turned to see the three boys staring at him defiantly. Between them, they’d defeated Voldemort, lead an entire group of students in underground resistance, and faced down Bellatrix Lestrange. They would not be cowed by someone such as Gawain Robards.

With a slightly feral grin, and clearly thinking he’d be rid of them soon when they failed the simulation, he acquiesced to their request. “Alright, Blue Team. Keep them. But don’t come crying to me when you lose.” He turned to the group at large. “When the bell rings, you’ll each enter through your color-coded door. You’ll be send to different sides of the arena. You will have exactly two minutes to determine a battle plan. Take a look at your vest. The vest with a white stripe indicates your battle commander. Their orders are not to be ignored. When the bell rings again, the match will begin. The simulation will continue until either one team retrieves the object from the other team and returns it to their side, or when all members of one team have been incapacitated. There is no surrender in this scenario. If your object is taken, you lose. If your team is knocked out, you lose. Got it? Good. Let’s begin!”

With a wave of his wand, a bell rang out around the room and each team filed through their designated door. The emerged into a darkened room covered in a blanket of fog. The room was made to look like a battle-worn village, with walls and half-walls at various intervals to provide cover.

Harry and his teammates piled into the room and gathered in a rough circle around what was presumably their object: a glowing blue orb atop a pedestal, an empty pedestal, presumably for the enemy’s green orb, stood beside it. Immediately, one of the older men began speaking. The white stripe indicated this would be their commander.

“Right,” he said, “my name is Eric. I’ve been in training in America for the last few years, so I think I’m a good choice for Battle Commander. Alright. Best strategy in a place like this is to go on the offensive quickly. We’ll form a line and press across the arena until we encounter the green team. Use cover if necessary, but keep the line as best as you can. If we keep firing as they come at us, there won’t be any possibility of them getting by.”

“What about this thing?” said a woman to Harry’s left as she gestured to the orb. “Aren’t we out of they get it? Shouldn’t we leave some behind to guard it, or something?”

Eric shook his head. “No, that’s what they’ll be expecting. They think we’ll split our force, so they won’t be prepared for our full-frontal assault. It’s standard tactical stuff. Do what the enemy won’t expect. Besides, if we go straight across, none of them will have a chance to slip by, so there won’t be any possibility of them getting to it,” he said confidently.

Harry looked askance at Ron, who also looked doubtful, but neither said anything. Neville shook his head at the two, but there was little they could do about it. Clearly Eric-the-idiot, as they would later call him, had never fought a real battle, but Robards had made it clear that command was to be obeyed, and after their earlier act of defiance, the three thought it best they play along for now. Blue Team spent the remaining two minutes distributing themselves across the arena in as much of a straight line as they could.

Immediately, the plan began to fall apart. Firstly, the arena was far larger than they had originally imagined, leaving large gaps between each teammate, as, in order for the plan to work, they had to spread to fill the entire area. In normal conditions, this would have been manageable, but with the fog, each person could only barely see the people on either side of them. Secondly, the town was rather haphazardly ruined, meaning some people had lots of cover, and some very little. Also, there were places where the line was hugely uneven because of obstacles, like ruined buildings, in the way.

Harry was just about to speak up, command structure notwithstanding, when the second bell sounded. The order to advance came from somewhere to his left where he knew Eric had stationed himself. The order was echoed down the line, and immediately, Harry pressed forward, Ron and Neville moving in sync to his right and left. The battle had begun.

It wasn’t long before a shadowy figure moved through the fog to Harry’s right. The low visibility made it impossible to determine who the figure was, but as they were rapidly approaching the Blue offensive line, Harry thought it was probably safe to assume they were the enemy. He lifted his wand just as a stunner from his right downed the figure. He couldn’t see the person who had shot, but the red glow of a vest indicated that they hit the target.

And then, chaos.

Spellfire broke out from all directions as shadows leapt from behind ruined walls Harry and his team returned fire and the fog was lit with a rainbow of spells. Acting on instinct, Harry twisted out of the way of a yellow spell, only to see a shadow moving behind him, in the opposite direction.

Somehow, in the fog and confusion, they’d been flanked.

How the enemy had gotten behind them so quickly was only a mystery for a moment, as the fog-muffled sound of Apparation reached Harry’s ears only a moment later as another shadow appeared in the fog. Cursing himself for not checking for wards, Harry ducked into cover, gesturing frantically to Ron and Neville, who joined him without hesitation. He cast a quick Muffliato to keep from being heard.

“They’re behind us,” he told them. “We have to go back.”

Without a second’s misgiving, without discussion about breaking their commander’s orders, the three boys turned and set off silently back towards the pedestal. They moved silently in a half crouch, avoiding the green team and dancing quickly from cover to cover, avoiding confrontation, rather than engaging the enemy lest the sight of spellfire give away their position and intention. Right now, they had the element of surprise on their side, and each of the battle-wizened boys knew how invaluable that was.

They reached the pedestal in only a few short moments, and Harry, almost out of instinct, began circling it, muttering the concealment spells they’d used every night on the Horcrux hunt. Ron fell into step behind him, adding the secondary layers of protection, working as a team, as they always had. Neville stood watch next to the pedestal, wand ready, eyes peering into the fog that was gently illuminated by the blue glow. When Ron and Harry joined him a moment later and Neville looked beside him to see the orb, he was curious that it appeared unchanged.

“What’d you do to it?” he asked them.

“Hid it. You can see it because you’re inside the circle, and as long as you stay where you are, no one can see or hear you, either, but take a step outside that line,” Harry pointed to a faintly glowing mark in a rough circle on the floor, “and you become visible, but everything inside the circle remains hidden.”

“That’s great. That’ll make it much harder to find the orb, but we’re not much help to our team stuck here. Someone still has to defeat them or take their orb, and something tells me it isn’t going to be Eric.”

Ron snorted in a very undignified way.

“No, you’re right. Listen, Neville, Ron and I have a lot of experience getting around and into places we shouldn’t be. We’re going to press on, but someone has to stay nearby in case one of the green team stumbles upon the hiding spot. It’s got repelling charms on it, but a clever wizard will be able to tell they’ve been repelled and they’ll come back. Can you stay here and make sure no one gets to it?”

“Sure thing,” Neville replied. “It’d be a lot easier if I could see what I was fighting, though. This fog is brutal.”

Harry thought for a moment before turning to Ron, opening his mouth as if to ask a question.

“It’d be helpful, but we can do without it. Just no apparating,” Ron said, interrupting him before he even began. Neville shook his head in confusion as the best friends communicated in ways only they knew.

“Right. My thoughts exactly. Disillusionment and a few weather charms, then? And where do you think their orb is?” he asked his friend.

“Should do the trick,” Ron nodded, “and if we assume that their side is set up roughly the same as our side, we should find it exactly on the opposite side of the field.”

“What if they’ve moved it?” Neville asked wisely.

Ron blushed and unconsciously mimicked Harry’s nervous head scratch. “Well, right about the time Eric opened his mouth and I figured out he’s an idiot, I thought about moving our orb somewhere else to throw off the other team. Thought I’d just get on with it while we were lining up, but it must be magicked to the floor, because nothing I tried would budge it.”

“Smart thinking, Ron!” Neville said enthusiastically.

“What is it with the bloody tone of surprise,” Ron muttered causing Harry to chuckle and Neville to flush pink.

“Well, we’d best get going. Ready, Ron? Disillusionment and wind charms to start,” Harry commanded.

Ron simply nodded and they raised their wands to their heads and slowly disappeared. Neville followed suit not half a second later. Silently, the three invisible boys stepped out of the circle, the orb and both pedestals disappearing behind them, and with a whisper, three wands began to dispel the fog.

What greeted them was nothing short of disastrous. It was immediately clear that green vests vastly outnumbered blue ones, though there appeared to be several blues simply awaiting revival, likely felled in the fog with no one the wiser. Greens and blues alike both dashed into cover as the obscuring fog was whisked away. Harry took a moment to survey the scene, before a tug to Harry’s right wrist indicated that Ron had moved off in that direction.

Harry had recently discovered, as he was reading a book on Defense he’d found while cleaning Grimmauld Place for Hermione’s parents, that it was, in fact, possible to track someone who was disillusioned, provided you had an object of theirs to track them with that was imbued with the appropriate charm. So, Harry, Ron, and Neville had each purchased a slim leather band, worn them for a day, traded with each other, and attached one to each wrist. Harry’s right wrist, where Ron’s band was fastened, would move in the direction Ron moved, with the small silver clasp always rotating to face the invisible boy. If he was incapacitated, the clasp would become cold. Neville’s band on Harry’s left wrist would do the same. Each charm was dormant until Harry tapped it with his wand, which he did as soon as the stepped from the circle. Neville was patrolling somewhere to Harry’s left and back, presumably from a covered location where he could still monitor the pedestal, while Ron moved to Harry’s right flank, the place he always seemed to occupy naturally.

Silently, the boys moved across the hall, reviving teammates who looked around in confusion as they passed, seeing nothing and wondering how they were suddenly free to move again. Their confusion lasted only a second, before the Auror hopefuls rushed across the room, darting from cover to cover, to rejoin the battle.

Harry was disappointed to find Eric’s red vest among one of the nearest to their starting point. Clearly whatever training they were doing in America either wasn’t effective, or Eric was simply truly an idiot. Ron revived him, wand against Eric’s chest to minimize the light from the spell, and the two continued towards their goal.

While Ron revived Eric, Harry reassessed their situation. The green team’s pedestal was nowhere to be seen, though that was no surprise to Harry. Leaving it unattended and unshielded like Eric had was really just asking for it to be taken. Harry was hoping that their opponents wards and charms were not as strong as theirs, or else this search could take a while.

Hoping for a miracle, Harry muttered “Point Me Green Orb,” and felt his wand swing around to his left. He smiled, once again praising Hermione for discovering the modified Point Me spell last year. While she had primarily used it to quickly find edible plants, it could be used to locate any specific object, with the notable and frustrating exception of Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

Thankfully, the enemy’s orb was not warded nearly as strongly as the Horcruxes. Harry relished the fact that their concealment wards would prevent just such a spell from finding their own orb, and silently promised to buy Hermione the best Christmas present he could find.

Harry moved off to his left, following the movement of his wand, Ron following silently behind. As Harry moved around a tumbledown wall, he saw a slight shimmer in the air ahead of him. He smiled again. Disillusionment charms were good, but not too hard to spot if you knew what to look for. The fact he and Ron hadn’t yet been spotted was further testament to the inexperience of the people around them. He knew there must be people here who would have seen them, but they’d been careful to move slowly and avoid being out in the open as much as possible.

Harry placed his wand over the metal clasp on Ron’s bracelet and tapped twice, sending the agreed-upon signal for Ron to approach. When he felt the boy’s hand on his shoulder, Harry silently stepped them back around a wall and cast another Muffliato.

“It’s under a Disillusionment,” he whispered to Ron, conscious of the fact that Muffliato wasn’t the same as a Silencing Charm, though it had the benefit of being a spell that did not produce a light, unlike the weak yellow flash produced by a Silencing Charm, making it better for concealed casting. Still, they would have to keep their voices low to avoid being heard.

“It’s not where I thought it’d be,” Ron noted in a whisper. “Robards might not be as stupid as he looks.”

Harry suppressed a snort.

“You see any guards?” Ron whispered again.

“Didn’t check yet,” Harry responded. He saw the faint shimmer of Ron’s nod and heard him whisper, “Hominum Revelio” as he poked his head around the corner.

“None,” he whispered to Harry.

“Really?” Harry whispered back.

“Check yourself, if you want,” Ron replied.  
“No. It’s okay. I trust you.”

They both stood silently for a moment, thinking.

“It’s too easy,” Harry finally said with a shake of his invisible head. “There has to be something.”

They approached the pedestal-and-orb-shaped shimmer together circling it once. Harry cast a spell revealing charm at it, but no spells glittered to life except the expected disillusionment charm. Doubtful, he tried it again. Still nothing. He reached a cautious hand out, expecting to feel the tingle of a ward or hear an alarm or alert at any moment. Nothing. Gingerly, he rested his hand on top of the orb, feeling it’s solid weight beneath his palm exactly where he’d expected it to be.

Nothing happened.

Slowly, he slid his hand down the orb and felt around the top of the pedestal for any tricks, not even knowing what he expected to find. There was nothing. Carefully, he placed both hands on the orb, braced himself and tensed his muscles for movement, then quickly lifted it off the pedestal and took a quick step to the right.

Nothing happened.

With what would have been an impressive look of incredulity, if anyone had been able to see it, he glared at the invisible orb in his hands before he shrugged and began slowly walking back towards their side of the base, trusting Ron to watch his back. Though he had the orb, stealth was still important, as his team wouldn’t win until he’d placed the green orb atop their empty pedestal, and they both knew that disillusionment charms held up much better in slow movement than fast. So, they crept back towards where their bracelets told them Neville still waited.

The lack of opposition was astounding to both boys as they approached their end goal without ever having had to shoot a single spell. The majority of the fighting was happening somewhere to their right, where Ron and Harry had initially expected to find the green orb. Clearly the Green Team was doing nothing to dispel the Blue Team’s assumption that their orb would be in the same place on the opposite side. Several green-vested witches and wizards had walked right past them, presumably searching for the blue orb, but never noticing the slight shimmer of disillusionment. They passed their silent comrade, who moved into position behind them. Harry felt both his friends, one on the right and one on the left, protecting him as he strode across the line of their wards. Their blue orb still glowed from its pedestal, right where they’d left it. Harry cancelled the disillusionment charms on himself and the orb, finally seeing the green glow in his hands, and, turning to see his two best mates grinning behind him, he confidently placed the orb on the empty pedestal.

The second the orb hit the stone, a blue glow bathed the room and a bell sounded, indicating the end of the match. Almost immediately, the scenery disappeared, and Robards strode into the room through a door that had certainly not been there a moment ago. He strode to the center of the now-empty room and looked around in confusion. The disillusionment charm on the green team’s pedestals had lifted to reveal them both to be empty, but his eyes swept over the place where Harry, Ron, and Neville stood without a pause.

“What happened?” one of the green team members shouted. “Who won?”

“Blue team,” Robards answered gruffly, now peering around the room carefully.

“How? I don’t see their pedestals or the orbs?” another green team member asked. “They cheated!” he cried.

The cry was picked up again and again among the green team, and the blue team simply looked bewildered as they gazed at where their pedestals were, or rather, where they should have been, as the space appeared to be empty.

“Can’t cheat. Room won’t let you cheat,” Robards muttered, now waving his wand in a complex set of patterns. With each flourish and flash of spellfire, his face grew redder and his scowl deeper. He finally dropped his wand with a sigh.

“Alright, blue team. What have you done with it? Where’s the pedestal. Commander!” he bellowed, turning to Eric. “The game is over. Report!” he called.

Eric stepped forward slowly, a confused look on his face. “Er…” he started, “Well, sir, the fact is, I’m not sure. When the game started, the pedestals were there, but as you can see, they’re not now. I don’t know what happened to them,” he stammered nervously.

Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Neville had finally decided enough was enough. Together, the three boys took two steps forward, appearing as if out of nowhere before the gaping eyes of the other recruits. Robards scowled at them as they smiled at him.

“Oi! This what you’re looking for?” Ron asked as he turned towards the pedestal. With a complicated, but perfectly executed, well-practiced, almost-second-nature flourish of his wand and a muttered counterspell, the charms and wards that had kept Harry, Ron, and Hermione hidden for the better part of a year dispelled to reveal the pedestals, each with a glowing orb atop it, one blue, one green.

Robards couldn’t stop the look of surprise that flittered across his features as he regarded the young men before him.

“What spell was that?” he asked gruffly.  
“Wards for concealment, silencing, mild confudus, repelling wards, couple of others,” Harry explained flippantly.

“How’d you dispel them all so quickly?” someone asked.

“Spells are stacked and password locked. Right wand movement plus password, they go down.”

“Really?” the Auror hopeful asked again, stepping forward. “I’ve done some warding work, and that’s incredible. How’d you do it?”

Harry and Ron both scratched their heads.

“Er, well, you’d have to ask our friend Hermione. She’s the one figured it all out and taught it to us. We don’t ask too many questions when Hermione’s involved,” Harry replied with a sheepish grin.

Ron snorted and Neville smiled wistfully as they thought of the incomprehensible lecture that would surely follow if they asked Hermione how she did the things she did.

“So how’d you learn them?” another Auror asked.

Ron laughed out loud and pointed to Harry, whose face was now quite red. “You try spending a year on the run with ‘Undesirable Number One’ and see if you don’t start using some fancy new wards, too!”

An uncomfortable chuckle passed around the room. Robards, however, was not amused.

“Well that’s just ruddy fantastic, gents,” the Head Auror sneered. “Now explain to me exactly why you didn’t do as your Commander instructed. I saw the three of you break ranks, and clearly you didn’t discuss this little strategy with your leader first. You’ve already been told command is important, yet you continue to defy it. Explain!” he demanded.

Robards and the recruits watched in awe as Ron and Neville silently and automatically deflected to Harry’s leadership, the two tall friends taking a step back as their shorter one took a step forward.

Harry looked at him with blazing eyes.

“Sir, with all due respect, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past several years, it’s that people who are in control are not always right, and blindly following someone just because you’ve been told to doesn’t always work out in the end.”

Ron stepped forward, next to Harry and continued. “I know we broke ranks, but it was immediately clear that our team’s strategy wasn’t going to work. It focused only on defeating the enemy, when there was an easier way to win.”

“Elaborate,” Robards growled.

“When you called it a ‘battle scenario,’” the redhead continued, “people automatically assumed that the best way to win, or to prove themselves, was to eliminate the enemy. Doing it this way actually puts more people at risk when they don’t need to be. A better strategy would have been to send several small forces to engage the enemy from covered positions at various angles around the room, creating a diversion while another group captured the enemy’s orb. Once the orb was returned to our side, the battle would be over with a minimal loss of life for our team.”

“But in the real world, that would never happen!” shouted Eric.

The three boys gaped at him and Neville scoffed audibly.

“You have something to add, Mr. Longbottom?” Robards asked.

“Yeah. I’d like to know where this bloke’s been hiding for the last decade. Listen, battles aren’t about killing the other side. Not really. Battles happen because one side has something that the other side wants. The battle ends when one side takes what they want from the other side. Two and a half years ago, Voldemort wanted something in the Department of Mysteries. Harry, Ron, and I, along with three other friends, none of us more than sixteen, prevented him from getting what he wanted by destroying it. He was angry, but beaten, and when faced with a bit of opposition, he chose to run, rather than continue to fight. The year after that, he came to Hogwarts, again, not to kill students, but to achieve a particular goal, in this case the death of Professor Dumbledore. In that instance, he won. He didn’t stick around to eliminate the entire enemy force, he just left, taking his Death Eater’s with him.”

Harry stepped forward again and took up the tale. “Last year, he wanted me. For various reasons, he felt that I was the key to his downfall, so he sought to capture me and kill me so that he could rise to power unimpeded. He did a lot of terrible things along the way, but he did them all in an effort to find me or draw me out. Meanwhile, I was looking for and collecting things that would help me defeat him. When I had them all, that was when the battle ended. That was when I was able to kill him. See, battles aren’t really about killing people for the sake of killing people. There’s always an end goal. If the enemy achieves their goal, the battle ends. If the enemy is irreversibly prevented from achieving their goal, the battle ends. My goal was to capture your orb. I did that. The battle ended.”

“And that’s real world,” added Ron. “We may not have as much training as most of you probably do, but we know what real world battles are like, probably more than most. And if we have to defy a few idiot commanders to achieve real-world victory, then that’s what we’ll do. It’s what we’ve always done. And it’s the only reason we’re still alive.”

The three stood abreast now, Harry only half a step in front with Ron to his right and Neville his left, and suddenly Robards had a vision of his future. He wasn’t a seer, though his mother insisted there were some in their ancestry, and he didn’t believe in that balderdash anyway, but ten years later, when Harry stood framed in what was currently Robards' office doorway, the Head Auror badge gleaming on his chest, a room full of eager faces ready to accept the instructions of their new leader, Robards would remember this moment as the beginning of the end of the way things had always been done--the beginning of the end of his mediocre career. The beginning of the end of the reign of corruption and blind obedience. And, despite himself, he would smile.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Accusations of non-consensual sexual acts. No ACTUAL non-consensual sexual acts, though. Just...paranoid ramblings.

Laughter rang around the Burrow’s kitchen table that night as the remaining inhabitants, minus George, who was actually at the shop, sat down to eat.

“I don’t think he thought you’d be able to react so fast. Quickest duel of the day! And their faces when they realized you’d put down the Deputy Head in under five seconds,” Ron laughed.

“I didn’t know I’d react so fast either, really, but I guess my reflexes got really sharp over the past year. That’s probably what happens when you spend a year dodging everything that moves,” Harry replied with a sheepish smile.

“You’re telling me! I nearly got hexed last week for going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Had his wand pointed at me before I’d got the door completely open,” Ginny said with a smile.

The table chuckled at Harry’s sour look.

“Makes me keep my wand in the drawer of the bedside table now,” he responded churlishly. “Took me ages to get to sleep that first night without it.”

“I know the feeling, mate. I’m still a bit twitchy. I Stunned a bird while we were in Australia.”

Cries of “What?” and “Ron!” rang around the table.

“Really?” Harry laughed.

“Right in the middle of the street,” Ron responded. Harry threw his head back as he barked out a laugh.

“What did Hermione do?” Ginny asked.

Ron grinned. “Well, that’s the funniest part. She tried to Stun it, too. Bloody thing flew out of a tree right in front of us and we both shot at it. I think she was mostly just sore that I hit it first. She’s wicked with spells, but I have a bit of an edge when it comes to speed. Weren’t many Muggles around, so I don’t think anyone saw, but we scarpered pretty quickly anyway.”

The image of Hermione Stunning a bird in the middle of the street was enough to make the table dissolve into laughter again. Molly Weasley shook her head in lighthearted disapproval at her youngest son. It was sad, in a way, that her son had developed such battle hardened reflexes that he was cursing innocent wildlife, but she was proud of the strong young man he’d become. If only he could have done the latter without the former, life would have been just perfect.

But it wasn’t. It had been months since May, but the hole in their family was still unfilled. It would probably always feel a bit empty with one of her son’s gone. Still, moments like these, where they got to laugh together, celebrate success together, these moments she loved. If they could have a few more of these, then, maybe, eventually, they’d be alright.

Arthur looked at her, seeing the slightly melancholy look on her face. He took her hand and gave her a reassuring smile before their attention was once again diverted to their children as Ginny sprang up from the table, Harry hot on her heels. She ran out the back door, laughing about something or other and teasing her husband as he chased her into the garden. She’d missed the start of their chase, but if the way Ron was shaking his head as he turned back to his plate was any indication, it was something exceedingly silly, just like it had been for the past month. Yes, it was good to see her children laughing again, especially her three youngest (including Harry, of course), who had undoubtedly had the hardest time of it lately. If those three could find a way to carry on, then so could she.

The hole may not be filled today. It may not be filled ever, in fact, but her daughter’s shriek as Harry finally caught her and her son’s gentle chuckle as he laughed at his sister and best friend before shoveling more food into his mouth--these acts of normalcy and joy were slowly beginning to patch it up.

____________________________________ ___________________________

As October rolled into November, things at the Burrow started to feel almost normal again. George was putting in more time at the shop as he went in three or four times a week, now, largely in an effort to escape the too-empty house. Harry, Ron and Neville were now training with the Aurors Monday through Friday and every-other Saturday. They’d have at least three months of training before they’d be cleared for any real missions. Harry told Ginny he now completely understood what it felt like when she came home and immediately collapsed into a chair.

Ginny’s Quidditch season had started up and the Harpies had already played their first few matches. Ginny had actually flown for a few minutes near the end of their last game when too many of their chasers took nasty bludger hits, but the Harpies were already set to win the game, and Ginny quickly found that professional Quidditch far outpaced Hogwarts Quidditch. She ran a support role, passing the Quaffle to the more experienced girls instead of putting it through the hoop herself, but she still enjoyed every second.

Flying with “Potter” on her back had been more satisfactory than she’d thought. Hearing her name called out over the stadium speakers and zooming around with those sparkling gold threads spelling it out on her robes really made her feel so much more like a married woman. From the pride radiating through their bond, she knew Harry enjoyed it, too.

For his part, Harry hadn’t missed a single match, and he always brought along at least one member of her family, if not all of them. Their reserved seats in the family box were almost always filled. She knew that eventually things would come up that would prevent her family, and Harry, from attending every game, but for now, she relished the fact that they came to support her, even if she didn’t get to play.

Autumn came to the Burrow, and the leaves turned bright orange, gold, and red, then fell softly to the ground. Whenever they could, Ginny and Harry took walks around the chilly garden, hand-in-hand, sometimes wrapped in blankets. It wasn’t until the first snow fell at the end of November that they put their outdoor strolls and nightly flights on hold.

As the weeks before Hogwarts’s Christmas Holiday passed by, Ron became more and more anxious for Hermione’s return. He had been to every Hogsmead day, and had helped her when she had leave from the school to get her parents moved into Grimmauld Place, but three visits in four months was hardly enough for them, and Ron often looked on Harry and Ginny with jealousy.

Finally, December 19th came, and with it, the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville stood together on the platform as the scarlet engine puffed out its final breaths and the doors finally opened. Hermione was the first out the door, running into Ron’s outstretched arms with abandon. Luna followed behind her more sedately. She greeted Neville with her trademark smile and joined the friends in their reunion.

Harry and Ginny turned towards their blonde friend in an effort to give the not-so-discreet couple behind them a few minutes of relative privacy.

“How was the term, Luna?” Ginny asked as she gave her friend a hug.

“Oh it was excellent. I learned ever so much. How has it been flying for the Harpies?”

“I just love it!” Ginny gushed. “I’m learning so much from the other women! They’re amazing fliers and I hope I can be as good as they are someday.”

“It’s just experience, love,” Harry said, not for the first time, placing a kiss to her temple. “You’ll get there.”

Ginny smiled up at him indulgently as he pulled her further into his side. Turning slightly to see her brother and Hermione still locked at the lips, Ginny swatted Ron on the arm.

“Oi!” he said as he turned to her. “I’m busy!”

“Yes, I can see that,” Ginny replied drolly, “and so can everyone else. Take her home, Ron. You know Mum’s been dying to see her.”

“Er...well, I actually have to go to my Grimmauld Place for a bit,” Hermione said shyly.

Ron pulled back from her.

“What? I thought you were coming straight to the Burrow,” he said, confused.

“Well, I was, but my parents sent me a letter asking me to come visit them for a bit first. I think they’d like to get to know ‘the new me,’ as they said, a bit better. They said you’re welcome to visit, as well, Ron.”

“Yes, but, I won’t…I’ll miss you when you’re not at the Burrow at night.” Ron’s ears began to turn red as he fumbled for words. Hermione put her hand on his arm and spoke gently.

“Ron. There are about a dozen rooms in Grimmauld Place. I’m sure you could stay over for a couple days.”

“Yes, but…in...er...separate rooms?” he asked quietly.

“Well, you know...it’s my parents. I think that would be best,” Hermione replied, her face nearly the shade of Ron’s hair.

Harry’s eyebrows had taken up permanent residence in his hairline. This was far more than he needed to know about his best friends. Neville and Luna had politely engaged themselves in mindless conversation.

“Honestly, Ron,” Ginny said, exasperated. “I’ll tell Mum. It’ll be fine. Don’t be a baby.”

Ron sighed, a strange look in his eyes that Ginny had never seen before. Nodding, he quietly acquiesced to her request. Ginny’s eyebrows rose as she saw her brother’s maturity. Only a few short months ago, he would have fought tooth and nail to get what he wanted. Something had changed in him, and she knew the bushy-haired witch at his side had something to do with it.

Ron looked at Ginny as Hermione smiled at him.

“Tell Mum I’ll be along in a bit to pick up some overnight things,” he said.

“Sure thing. Have fun!”

Ginny, Harry, Luna, and Neville gave the couple a little wave as they popped off the platform together.

“Well, that’s our cue to leave, too, I suppose,” Neville said. He looked at Luna, “I told your dad I’d bring you home straight off, so I don’t want him to worry.”

“How thoughtful of you! Yes, let’s be off. I’m anxious to see Daddy, again.”

And with another wave, they too were gone.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other curiously.

“How is it that we’re the only ones who weren’t here to pick someone up, and we’re the ones still standing here?” Ginny asked cheekily.

“Hmmm...Not sure,” Harry replied. “Do you think we should leave, then?”

“Let’s!” Ginny replied, looping her arm through Harry’s.

And together, they popped away, leaving the still-crowded platform and curious stares behind.

***************************** ****  
Harry and Ginny had both been given the entire week before Christmas off, as well as the week between Christmas and New Years. For Harry, it was the last break he would have before becoming an active-duty Auror, and for Ginny, it was a team reward for slamming the Tornadoes in their last match. The starting lineup had to be back for practice after Christmas to prepare for their January 9 match against Wimbourne, but Gwenog had given the reserve girls an extra week to relax, since the Wasps hadn’t won a game so far this season. She didn’t want to run the girls ragged over what should be an easy game.

It was on one of these days of break, the day after they’d retrieved Hermione from King’s Cross, in fact, when Ginny rolled over in their bed to find Harry’s spot vacant, but still warm. Frowning, she sat up in bed and checked the time. Harry rarely woke before her, and this was the first time he’d gotten out of bed before she did. Just as she was considering sending out a search party, a damp and only partially-clothed Harry walked into their room rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Oh! You’re up. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry said.

“You didn’t. At least I don’t think so, anyway. But what are you doing up so early?” Ginny asked.

“Just woke up earlier than usual. Watched you sleep for a bit, then decided to shower. Besides, there’s a lovely fresh blanket of snow outside and I have plans for you later.”

Ginny felt excitement uncoil in her stomach. She jumped up to stare out the window at the fresh snow when she let out a giggle.

“Harry! That tickles!”

She turned to find a grinning Harry absentmindedly tracing the Serch Bythol over his heart. He stopped with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, love. You were so excited about the snow you nearly made me jump for joy.” He walked over and wrapped his arms around her. “It was a good feeling. Made my heart warm to feel you so happy.”

“I just love snow! I always have.”

“I know, love. I plan to take full advantage of the outdoors today. But first, breakfast.”

Harry turned to open the door to the hall when Ginny grabbed his hand. He turned back to her, a curious look on his face. Ginny smiled up at him demurely as she pulled him back to her.

“It’s still early for breakfast. I can’t even smell Mum cooking yet. But you, Mr. Potter, smell absolutely fantastic. And aren’t you forgetting a shirt, by the way? Not that I’m complaining, mind.”

She started placing kisses on his bare chest as her hands traced the contours of his back. Harry’s Auror training had helped him develop some muscles over the past couple months that she greatly enjoyed. And Harry’s newfound proclivity for walking around their room shirtless had been driving her absolutely mad. Finally, there was time to do something about it.

***************************************************

It was some time later that found Harry and Ginny lying contentedly upon their bed, Harry running his fingers over the planes of Ginny’s bare stomach, both of them catching their breath from what had been a decidedly fantastic bit of snogging that had pushed the boundaries of their relationship.

Their bond had flared again as Harry’s hands and wandered to places they’d never been before, but the fire that had consumed them on Ginny’s birthday was still manageable. They were still in control, but each added sensation sent another ripple of flame across their bond. Recently, it had become harder and harder to find reasons to stop. Thus, Ginny found herself lying on her bed in only the thin, worn out sports bra she wore under her pajama top and a pair of pajama pants, exposing more of her skin to Harry than she ever had before.

Ginny smiled at him.

“That was...new,” she said.

Harry just nodded.

“You alright?”

He nodded again, then rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes.

“I love you,” he said gently.

“I love you, too,” Ginny responded.

“That got a bit out of hand, yeah?” Harry asked, still breathless, looking into her eyes.

“I think it was pretty well-in-hand, actually,” she replied cheekily, thinking of all the places Harry’s hands had been only a few moments before.

Harry blushed and looked away even as a chuckle worked its way up his throat. He brought his eyes back around to hers.

“Was it...was it too much?” he asked quietly.

“No, Harry.”

“You’re sure? We didn’t just let the bond take over and carry us away?”

“I won’t say that the bond had nothing to do with it at all. The way it shares our emotions and pleasure definitely makes things more dramatic, but I didn’t do or let you do anything I didn’t want or wasn’t ready for.”

“Are you sure? I sort of feel like I took advantage of you,” Harry mumbled, determinedly looking anywhere but her chest, despite the fact that his hands were in that very spot only moments ago.

“Harry,” Ginny said, turning his face from its inspection of her bedroom wall back to hers and meeting his eyes. “I love you. I am your wife. This is our bed that we have shared now for four months. Four months of moving slowly forward and staying modest. But I want to share my body with you, Harry. I want you to know all of it, like I want to know all of yours. I’m not asking for that today, or tomorrow, or next week, but I’m telling you that when it does happen, I will be fine with it. Better than fine, I’ll be happy. It probably won’t be something we plan. It’ll probably happen like what happened today. Spontaneous. Unexpected. Good. The bond may have pushed us to this place faster than we would have come on our own, but I don’t regret it at all. And, well…” she blushed, “if it’s anything like what I felt today...I’m starting to wonder why we’re waiting.”

Harry kissed her gently.

“I still can’t do this in your parent’s house,” he replied.

“I know. I’m not asking you to.”

“Do you think...do you think we’re ready to start looking for a house of our own?” Harry asked tentatively.

Ginny chewed her lip as she thought, but stopped with a smirk when she caught Harry’s eyes drifting toward them hungrily. She reached up and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Yeah. I think maybe we are. Do you think we are?”

A smile spread across Harry’s face.

“I think, just maybe, it’s time to find our own space,” he replied with a blush. Ginny laughed as he captured her in a hug. “But first...snow!”

Harry leapt off the bed with a gleeful look, Ginny jumping up behind him. Harry grabbed a random shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head, tossing another back for Ginny. She was just pulling it on as he opened the door, both of them laughing.

It was at that moment that George happened to walk down the hall to see his baby sister pushing her arms through Harry Potter’s shirt, the hem still exposing her toned stomach, and exiting her bedroom to follow him downstairs for breakfast, laughing all the while. With a scowl, he turned around and went back to his room, unnoticed by either of the Potters.

************************************ ****

George wasn’t stupid. He knew Harry and Ginny were sleeping in the same room, in the same bed. He’d even helped his Mum enlarge the room the day after they returned from the Harpies tryouts. He’d asked her then why she was being so accommodating to her young daughter and her paramour. His mother responded simply, “They’re married. It’s out of my hands.”

But that answer had never really satisfied George the way it seemed to satisfy everyone else, much as he pretended it did. Bill trusted Gringotts, Percy and his father trusted the Ministry, and Charlie just went along with whatever Bill said, since he spent too much time out of the country to really stay in the loop. But George didn’t really put as much trust in those institutions as his family did. After all, just because some ancient magic said they were married didn’t mean they actually were. Or should be.

His parents didn’t know, but when Ginny and Harry were broken up and Ginny needed someone to talk to, she went to Fred and George. There were plenty of times she’d show up in their shop unannounced, march upstairs, seat herself on their couch, and fall apart. It wasn’t that she was mad at Harry for not being with her. Ginny wasn’t a damsel in distress, not since her first year. She knew he had to do things that she couldn’t be involved in, or so he said. It was simply that she was worried about him. Worried so much that it was debilitating, sometimes. George was always cautious about any man that could have that much power over his indomitable sister.

Then, the first thing Harry did when he saw her again at Hogwarts after their long separation wasn’t hug her or kiss her or console her, but try to keep her in a cage. Fred and George brought Ginny to Hogwarts with them because they knew she would have followed them there anyway. Ginny was a fighter--is a fighter, and Harry tried to keep her tucked away like the damsel in distress Ginny refused to be.

That had never sat quite right with George. Sure, it was noble, some might say, to keep his sister, the supposed love of Harry’s life, safe, and George definitely didn’t want any harm to come to her. But it was also selfish, hugely selfish, and it ignored one of the fundamental things that makes Ginny, Ginny: her spirit. Harry couldn’t bear to see anything happen to her, but Ginny couldn’t bear to stay behind and do nothing. Rather than considering both sides, Harry just told her to do what he wanted her to do without listening to what she wanted.

Never a good sign.

Then he dies and she wails like a woman without any hope of living and throws herself into battle with Bellatrix Lestrange like she has some sort of death wish. For Ginny to be so attached to him at such a tender age was also not a good sign. It’s not healthy, George thought.

And he would have been right, if it wasn’t for the bond. But then again, George didn’t put much stock in the bond.

It seemed too convenient to him. Too contrived. Too unbelievable. Not that Harry wasn’t the poster child for unbelievable things, and Fred and George had often been some of his staunchest supporters through those things, but this one just seemed extra out-there. A Druidic old-magic bonding spell that only worked because Ginny was the seventh child of her family, a daughter, and the only girl born in seven generations? Ridiculous, even by Harry’s standards.

So when they moved into that room together, George nearly had a coronary. It wasn’t enough that he attacked her on her birthday and nearly forced himself upon her, despite what they may claim really happened, but now he’d trapped her in the same room as him. Clearly, Harry had become a monster. Maybe he’d always been one.

After all, Fred and George came to Hogwarts to respond to Harry’s call for help. If it hadn’t been for him, maybe George wouldn’t be in this mess at all. Alone. George’s conscience prickled at the thought. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. He knew that. He’d told Harry as much. But it seemed it took so little to make him angry these days, and Harry was almost always near the source of it.

So, today, when he’d walked past his sister’s room, now their room, only to see clearly that they were up to things his barely-of-age sister shouldn’t be up to, well...he wasn’t happy.

Afterall, George wasn’t stupid. He knew what rumpled sheets, flushed faces, swollen lips, and hastily donned shirts meant. He couldn’t believe Harry would do something so base and disrespectful under his parent’s roof. The same people that took him in again and again and cared for him as their own. Surely they deserved more than to have him steal their only daughter’s virtue in their own house. That Ginny would flaunt it by wearing Harry’s shirt made the whole thing even worse. Clearly he’d spread his corruption to her.

George was sorely tempted to stay in his room until they left the house, but then he remembered that they were both on holiday, and would be together all day. Each peal of his sister’s laughter that rang from the kitchen twisted the knife in his gut a little more until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He stormed out of his room and down the stairs to the kitchen. As he arrived, Harry and Ginny were just standing up, hand-in-hand, and had turned towards the stairs. Ginny was still wearing Harry’s shirt, and Harry was wearing his inside-out. George didn’t think the little prick noticed or cared.

“Morning George!” Ginny greeted, meeting his glare with a smile.

“Where do you think you’re going?” George growled.

Ginny stopped and reeled back, the smile falling from her face as she gave her brother a curious glance.

“Upstairs. Harry and I are going out in the yard to play in the snow so we need to get dressed in warmer clothes.”

“No,” he snarled.

“What?” Ginny replied, her face beginning to flush. “What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m not allowed to go outside today?”

“Not with him.” George pointed at Harry.

“Harry?” Ginny questioned incredulously. “Why can’t I go outside with Harry?”

“You can’t go anywhere with him.”

Ginny took her hand from Harry’s and placed it on her hip, dangerously close to her wand.

“Why not, George? What’s wrong with me going with Harry?”

“I saw you this morning. How could you do that, Ginny? In your mother’s house?”

“Do what? A bit of snogging with my husband? I hardly think that’s inappropriate considering the circumstances.”

“Snogging? Is that all? Didn’t look like just snogging to me, Gin. Whose shirt are you wearing by the way? And why is Harry’s on inside-out?”

Harry and Ginny both looked down at their attire. Harry’s face turned a curious shade of pink, though George didn’t notice.

“It was just snogging, George, and even if it wasn’t, did you miss the part about us being married? It’s been months, now. I know you can be thick, but not even Rita Skeeter’s that thick. Our marriage has been in the paper I don’t know how many times. Surely you’ve caught on by now.”

“You’re not married! You just think you are!”

Ginny stood stunned.

“Come again?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“You’re not married, Gin. Just because he says it’s some magical thing doesn’t make it so. Can’t you see that? He just wants a plaything and you’ve given him one. More media attention now that there aren’t any more Dark Lords to vanquish or brothers to kill. He’s a monster, Gin. He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re letting him! Don’t you remember how you cried when he left you? How can you just crawl back to this...this murderer?” George raged.

Ginny raised her hand up and slapped her brother in the face. A red mark bloomed where her hand had been.

“How dare you speak about Harry that way. He’s not a murderer! He didn’t kill Fred! He didn’t even really kill Voldemort, he disarmed him and Voldemort’s spell rebounded! And, seriously, George? Media attention? Harry doesn’t want more media attention! You saw what he was like when we were bombarded after the Harpies tryouts! He’s barely been seen in public since then, because every time he goes out he’s attacked by people who want to thank him, and Harry’s so humble he doesn’t think he deserves their thanks!” Ginny raged as she stepped to within an inch of her brother’s face. Suddenly, her voice became dangerously quiet, “And if you recall, George, not only were you sworn to absolute secrecy about my behavior last summer, but I distinctly recall crying because I didn’t want Harry to have to suffer all year. I knew he had something important to do, and I knew it would be dangerous, and I worried about him. I wasn’t crying over spilt milk, George, I was crying because I wondered if the next time I’d see the man I loved he’d be staring sightlessly from a pine box!”

Ginny’s tear-filled tirade had pulled her parents from the kitchen. They stared wide-eyed at the sight before them.

“That doesn’t excuse him raping you, Ginny! Like he did this morning! And you just laugh it off. You don’t have a ring. You never had a ceremony. You’re not properly married, so what he is doing is taking advantage of you!” George yelled.

The house was stunned into silence.

Suddenly, George’s body snapped rigidly to attention and he toppled to the floor, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling above him. All eyes turned to Harry’s outstretched arm, wand pointing steadily and silently at his one-time-brother. His eyes blazed with fire, but his voice, when he spoke, was low and calm and deadly.

“There are a lot of things I’ll excuse, George, especially considering what you’re going through. Call me a murderer. Call me a publicity whore. Those are things I’ve been called before and will probably be called again. But to imply that I would do anything so foul with your sister, to call me a rapist...that I will not excuse. Married or not, I wouldn’t lay a single finger on Ginny if she gave any indication that it wasn’t right with her. And I certainly wasn’t raping her this morning, or any morning. To be frank, why Ginny is wearing my shirt is entirely none of your business, but since you brought it up, it isn’t because we were having sex, because we weren’t having sex. We haven’t, in case you’re curious. Not once, despite the fact that we are married. She is my wife. I am her husband. There wouldn’t be a single thing wrong with it.

Is this what you’ve been waiting for, George?” Harry asked as he pulled a small white box from his pocket and dropped it onto George’s chest. “This is the ring I was going to give your sister today. I’ve had it for months, waiting for the perfect day, and when I woke up this morning and saw the snow, one of her favorite things, which I’m sure you know, I knew that today was that day. But now I’ve been called a rapist by her brother and told that I’m not allowed to be near her because I’m dangerous to her. There is nothing, nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman. And just this morning, not half an hour ago, we decided we were ready to start looking for a place of our own. I see now that the timing on this couldn’t have been better.

So, George, now that you’ve effectively ruined my long-awaited proposal, made your sister cry, accused me of the vilest of crimes, and made it very clear how unwelcome I am in your presence, I think it’s time for us to go. Your sister and I are going to go upstairs and start packing our things. I’m a forgiving man, George, but right now I’m dealing with my rage and your sister’s and I can’t promise how effective I’ll be at restraining myself if I should bump into you again before we leave. I wouldn’t want to run into Ginny, either. Happy Christmas, George.”

Harry took Ginny’s hand and pulled her around George’s frozen body and up the stairs to their room. Before they had taken three steps, Arthur’s voice rang out.

“Wait,” he called. “Don’t pack up. You don’t have a place ready, and despite George’s opinions, you’re both welcome here.” He turned to his son, still petrified on the floor. He leaned over George’s prone body, pulled his son’s wand from where it was tucked into his pocket, and looked into his eyes.

“George, go upstairs, grab whatever you need, and go to your flat. We’ve been accommodating to you wanting to be with family. We know you don’t want to be in that flat alone, and we’ve been happy to have you home. Being together has helped us all heal. But I will not allow one of my sons to treat his brother this way. I didn’t allow it with Percy, and I won’t allow it with you. I only hope it won’t take you so long to realize how wrong you are. A marriage at seventeen isn’t what we planned for Ginny, but even a blind man can see how happy she is. How happy they both are. Harry laughs, George. He laughs, and he plays, and he makes my baby girl smile like she used to before Voldemort took her mind and made it his own. He isn’t perfect, but neither is she, and neither are you, and Harry’s right--what they do in their room, in their marriage bed, is nobody’s business but theirs. And even if they were having sex this morning, your mother and I know that it wouldn’t have been done out of teenage lust, but because they truly, deeply love each other. They make your mother and I jealous with how deep their love runs.

You’ve made a mistake because you’re broken, and it hurts me to do this to you, but until you can speak civilly to your sister and Harry, your brother, you are not welcome in this house. If you’re not reconciled by Christmas, someone will be along to deliver your gifts to you. But for Merlin’s sake, or better, for your mother’s, come back to us soon. I don’t know if we can handle a Christmas without you and Fred. This is going to be hard enough as it is. When I release you, I don’t want to hear a word from your lips. I’ll give your wand back to you when I come over to speak with you this evening after you’ve had a chance to calm down.”

With a wave of his wand, George’s body unlocked, and he climbed slowly from the ground, the white ring box tumbling from his chest to the floor. Tears glistened in his eyes as he surveyed the the hurt and shocked faces of the people around him. Tears made silent tracks down Ginny’s flushed cheeks, and his mother stood shaking in the kitchen doorway, eyes red and swimming with unshed tears, struck speechless for the first time in George’s memory. Harry stood with a look of anger and hurt, his wand still steadily following George’s movements. Silently, he picked up the box and placed it in his sister’s trembling hand before he turned and dragged himself up the stairs and into his room. The sound of his anguished sobs floated down through the ceiling of the kitchen as George finally realized just how shattered his heart had become.


	25. Chapter 25

Harry and Ginny sat quietly on their bed, all thoughts of snow forgotten, as Ginny twirled the small white box in her hands. She hadn’t opened it yet.

“Do you want this back?” Ginny asked.

Harry’s head flew around and his panicked eyes met her apologetic ones.

“Why? Do you not want it? If you don’t like it, you can pick a different one. Unless...unless you don’t want a ring at all. I know you’re stuck with me now, and I’m sorry if--”

Ginny placed a finger over Harry’s lips.

“I only meant to ask if you wanted it back so you can try again another day. I haven’t opened it yet, but I’m sure it’s lovely. And of course I still love you and am glad I’m with you. Nothing George or anyone else says can change that.”

“Oh. Oh, well, I don’t know. Seems silly to take it back now that you know I have it. You’ll just be waiting for it, and, honestly, I’ve been so anxious about giving it to you that now you have it I can’t imagine taking it back.”

“Well...can I open it, then?”

“Sure. Wait! No. Give it to me.”

Ginny handed him the white box with a perplexed frown on her face.

“I thought you didn’t want it back.”

“I don’t, just give me a second,” Harry replied. He took the box from her and stood in front of where she sat on the bed. Looking into her eyes, he sank down onto one knee. “I still want to do something right,” he said sheepishly.

Ginny giggled nervously as Harry took her hands in one of his.

“Ginny,” he started, “I know we’re already married, but I wanted you to have a story worth telling our children and grandchildren about. I’m not sure this one is the most appropriate, but it’ll have to do. I also wanted to give you a ring so that the whole world knows that you’re mine, you know, in case your Harpies jersey wasn’t enough of a hint.” Ginny giggled again. Harry continued. “I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my whole life. You bring light to my day and I can’t imagine going on without you by my side. Would you do me the honor of marrying me...again?”

As he opened the box to reveal the ring, Ginny gasped. It was a beautiful oval amethyst surrounded by tiny pearls with delicate swirling engravings around the band. It was a beautiful, rich golden color and was small enough that it wouldn’t feel gaudy on her delicate fingers. She reached a shaking hand towards the ring and plucked it from the box as she inspected it closely. Harry couldn’t have chosen a ring more perfect for her if she’d chosen it herself. It was delicate without being overly effeminate or ostentatious. It was original and unique. It was clearly old, but well cared-for, which probably meant it was from his personal vault and belonged to someone in his ancestry. As she pulled the ring up, she saw Harry’s anxious face waiting for her answer.

She smiled at him as she held the ring out to him to place on her finger.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Harry. I’d like nothing more than to stand before the whole world and declare that I am yours and you are mine...again.”

As he slid the ring onto her finger it magically adjusted to fit perfectly on her petite hands. They smiled at each other.

“Should we tell your mum she’ll be planning another wedding?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Later. I have something else I’d rather do right now,” Ginny replied as she pulled his face to hers for a long, tender kiss.

************************************ ******************

Arthur Weasley walked up the darkened stairs leading to the flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. All the lights were extinguished save the one above the kitchen sink. Arthur smiled at the sight. The light over the sink was always left on in their home, too. It was a habit Molly had picked up from her mother, and apparently one that George had picked up from her.

He knocked against the kitchen wall at the top of the stairs.

“George?” Arthur called.

The only response was the faint rustling of sheets and the creak of bedsprings in the room on the left side of the hall. Arthur frowned as he glanced into the darkened room on the right before pushing open the door on the left.

Light from the lamps in Diagon Alley shone in the curtainless window to illuminate the figure of George on the bed, covered in a green knitted blanket. Molly had made them for the boys when they moved out, and Arthur was glad to see that they’d been used and appreciated. Gingerly, he sat on the edge of the bed, bending to pick something up from the floor.

He held the empty firewhiskey bottle near George’s head, shaking it so the last dregs of the alcohol sloshed in the bottom of the bottle.

“I thought, after what happened last time, you decided to avoid the firewhiskey. What’s all this?” Arthur gestured to the bottles scattered around the floor.

George just grunted in reply.

“Is this what you’ve been doing when you say you’re working late? Up here hiding away drinking?”

“Bugger off, Dad,” George growled as he swatted the bottle from Arthur’s hand. It joined the others on the floor with a clatter. Arthur watched as his son turned his body towards the wall so he wouldn’t have to look at his father. The older man sighed and scratched the back of his balding head.

“Listen, George, I know it seems unfair, me asking you to leave the Burrow. Trust me, son, I didn’t want to. But you were in the wrong today, and having you living across the hall from Harry and Ginny wasn’t likely to make the situation better. Do you understand?”

George didn’t move. Arthur placed his h

“What are you doing here, George?”

“You sent me here,” he grumbled.

“No, son. What are you doing in Fred’s room? I know I haven’t been here much, but I know your room was on the right side of the hall, and this blanket you’re under...well it’s got an F on it, not a G.” Arthur looked sadly around the room that had clearly been lived in, and recalled the pristine condition of the one across the hall--the room where he’d expected to find his son.

George buried his face in the sheets as tears filled his eyes.

“I thought if I came in here I’d feel closer to him. I thought it would feel like he’s still here. But every time I’m here, all I can feel is that he’s gone. I’ve done everything to move on. Tried working the shop. Tried being home with you and Mum. Hell, Dad, I even tried sex, but Angelina turned me down. Repeatedly. She was always more Fred’s girl, anyway. The only thing that works is firewhiskey, and even that isn’t enough to make me forget him. Not without being drunk off my arse, and we’ve seen how that turns out.”

“Are you trying to forget him?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe if I could, it wouldn’t hurt so much. Thought about Obliviating myself, but Fred was always better at Charms, and I’d just muck it up. Seem to recall Hermione saying it’s impossible to do it to yourself, anyway, so I guess that’s out, too.”

Arthur pulled his son’s shoulder and rolled him so he could see his face. George’s eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and tear tracks had dried on his cheeks.

“We can’t forget him. Never. Fred was a part of our lives and if we forget all of that then what was the point of him being here in the first place? He may have been your twin, but he was my son. I held him in my arms while the mediwitch was still delivering you. I watched you and him grow in your mother for nine months before that. I watched as you grew up together, inseparable. Your mother and I loved watching the two of you together, but now I wonder if this would have been easier if we’d encouraged you to be your own person a bit more.

I lost a son, that I brought into this world, George. It’s doesn’t matter if I still have the five other red-haired boys, one of whom looks exactly like him. I lost him, and that pain will never fully go away.” Arthur sniffled as he dried his tears with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “It hurts. It hurts so much, every day, but if the only way to make the pain go away is to forget about him, then I don’t want the pain to go away. All those memories of him are worth so much to me because they’re all I have left. No, son. We can never forget him.

But this?” Arthur gestured to the room around him. Fred’s room. “This isn’t healthy either. Sleeping in his room, his bed, won’t make him come back, it’ll just keep you from being able to move on. And when you don’t move on, you can’t get past your grief and it just makes you angry at everything and everyone. Then we have episodes like we had this morning. You accused him of raping her, George. Of forcing himself on her. Aside from the fact that Harry isn’t capable of that kind of violence, do you really think your sister would just let it happen? She hexed Ron not three weeks ago because he charmed her whole room Cannons orange after the Harpies beat them in a match. She led the resistance at Hogwarts and, more often than not, came out on top. She and two of her friends battled Bellatrix Lestrange and didn’t die, a feat not many can claim. She’s demonstrated over and over again that she can take care of herself. If Harry was doing anything your sister didn’t approve of, we’d probably still be looking for the pieces of the poor boy.”

“What if she doesn’t know what she approves of?” George asked. “She’s still barely seventeen.”

“George. Don’t treat your father like he’s stupid. I know exactly what you were getting up to when you were seventeen and fresh out of Hogwarts with a successful business. Did you know what you wanted from a girl when you were seventeen? Do you think those girls didn’t know what they wanted from you? If it was okay for you and them, why isn’t it okay for Harry and Ginny?”

“It’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because Fred and I were supposed to take care of her, and now Fred’s not here and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

“She’s not your responsibility, son. She never has been. Your mother and I have always admired the way you boys, especially you and Fred, stood up for her, but protecting her has never been your job. For seventeen years it was mine and your mother’s, and now, it’s Harry’s. And if you think about it, he’s gotten her out of more scrapes than we have. I don’t doubt for a second that if your mother hadn’t been there to take down Lestrange, Harry would have done it. He would have abandoned his fight with Voldemort to protect your sister, even if it meant losing the war. He loves her, and probably has for longer than he even knows.”

“How do you know he’s not controlling her?” George questioned with a sneer. “He’s always telling her what to do. ‘Stay at the Burrow. Stay in the Room of Requirement. No, you can’t fight with me.’”

“Are you seriously faulting the boy for trying to keep her safe?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“Ginny’s not a damsel in distress, Dad! She didn’t want to be kept safe, she wanted to fight!”

“George, not two minutes ago you told me you were supposed to protect her, and now you’re telling me she doesn’t need protecting, she needs to be able to fight her own battles. You can’t have it both ways, son. I can’t hold Harry’s desire to protect my daughter against him. If it had been my choice, I’d have kept her locked away, too. Fighting spirit is an admirable trait, but it nearly got her killed in the Great Hall. Where do you think we’d be if she hadn’t ducked just in time? Harry would never have been able to finish that battle with her lying in a heap on the floor. Your sister being alive is the reason Harry was able to defeat Voldemort. Seems a decent reason to give them a little space to do what they want.”

“So you’re just giving her to him as a victory prize?”

“No! Of course not! Stop and think about what you’re saying! Would I give any of my children up as a prize to anyone? Now you’re not just insulting Harry, you’re insulting me. It’s not really about this anyway. It’s about Fred. Fred’s death--” Arthur took a deep breath as his voice hitched, “Fred’s death changed how our family operates, but it didn’t change who we are. I know you feel lost without him because you’ve always been ‘Fred and George,’ but it’s time to figure out how to be George, just George. And it starts by getting out of Fred’s room. I’m off work from now until Christmas. I’ll be by tomorrow at eight to start putting away his things. I’ll bring you something to eat, since Merlin knows there’s nothing here except firewhiskey, and we won’t make it through the day on a breakfast of alcohol.”

“But Dad--”

“No, George. It won’t be easy, but being surrounded by all this isn’t good for you. It’s time to put it away. We’ll take it to the attic at the Burrow, and when you’re ready, you can look through it again. Friday is Christmas. That gives you four days to decide if you’re going to apologize to your sister and Harry. If you can do that, then you can come home for Christmas, but I won’t have you in my house if you’re going to fight the whole time. Your mother can’t handle it. Not this year. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get some rest. I’ll be back in the morning. Oh! And here,” Arthur put George’s wand on the bedside table. “I don’t like you being alone after dark in Diagon Alley without your wand, in case something should happen.”

“Thanks,” George mumbled, not even looking at his wand.

Arthur bent and kissed his son on the forehead. “Goodnight, son. I love you.”

George rolled over to face the wall again as Arthur made his way back through the small flat and down to the floo in the office. With a whirl of green flames, he was deposited back into his living room.

It was late, and he’d expected the house to be quiet and asleep, so he was surprised when not only Molly, but also Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were scattered across sofas and chairs, waiting for his return.

“Is he settled in, dear?” Molly asked.

“Yeah, he’s in. I, ah, I need to go back in the morning. We’re going to box up Fred’s things.” He noticed the tears gathering in his wife’s eyes. “Would you like to help?”

“I think it could be good for us,” she replied after a bit of thought, and with fresh tears making their way down her cheeks. “We should both go.”

“Alright then. We’ll leave after breakfast. We’ll need to take some with us. He doesn’t have any food.”

“I’ll put some things together in the morning.”

“I knew you would, dear,” Arthur replied with a small smile.

“What about us, Dad?” Ron asked.

Arthur shook his head.

“Best if it’s just the three of us. George is...he’s not ready for more yet.”

Ron nodded pensively, and Arthur wondered when his youngest son had gotten so accepting and perceptive. He turned to the other two people in the room.

“Give him a day or two to come to his senses about the two of you. He didn’t mean what he said, Harry.”

His raven-haired son nodded.

“I know,” the boy said.

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt us, though, Dad. It’s not...Harry’s not...He wouldn’t…” Ginny stammered. Arthur raised up a hand.

“I know, Gin, and he does, too. He just feels like he should be protecting you, but he’s so lost he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to protect you from. When he saw the two of you this morning, he just couldn’t handle it. I know you weren’t doing anything wrong, but please try to be discreet when he’s here for Christmas. At least until this smooths over.”

“So he’s coming, then?” Ginny asked.

“He hasn’t said. He owes you and Harry an apology first, so we’ll see. But I hope so. I really hope so.”

He looked around at the bleary eyes of his family. They’d stayed up to wait, but not for him. They were waiting to make sure George was alright. Even Harry, who had more than enough reason to still be angry, was genuinely concerned. This is what made Weasleys great. This is what made them strong. If they all stuck together, George would get better, in time.

He smiled out at all of them.

“Alright Weasleys.” Ginny raised her eyebrows, “and Potters, sorry kids, it’s time for bed. Up we go.”

Ron and Hermione went back to the floo, returning to Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ginny filed up the stairs, and Ginny hugged her parents as she and Harry stepped into their room. Molly and Arthur continued up to their bedroom. As he closed the door, he heard his wife sigh.

“How’s he really doing, Arthur?” she asked timidly.

“Not well. He’s broken, Molly, and so lost, and I don’t know what else to do for him. How can I help him with his grief when I’m barely holding in my own? I’ve tried to be strong for the kids, but losing Fred and seeing George like this...I don’t know how much more I can handle. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children.”

“No. They’re not,” Molly whispered.

“He seemed like he’d been doing better. I guess that was just an act.”

“He always was good at acting,” Molly replied. “Both of them were. Too good at lying. We should have suspected.”

He wrapped his arms around his wife as the tears began to flow freely down both their faces.

“How are we going to make it through this?” Molly asked, voice thick with sorrow.

“Together. That’s the only way.”

Quietly, Arthur and Molly climbed into their bed, eyes still wet, and wrapped themselves in each other’s arms as they had done many times before. Arthur knew it would get better one day, or at least that’s what he’d been told. But that day wasn’t going to be today, and it wasn’t going to be tomorrow either. Still, they’d wake up in the morning, and do their best to find joy when they could. And they’d have each other. And that’s the best anyone could ask for.


	26. Chapter 26

“Harry, love, breakfast is ready!” Ginny called through the house.

“Be there in a moment!” Harry called back.

Ginny slid a fried egg onto Harry’s plate, next to his toast, just as her raven-haired husband emerged around the kitchen door, still doing up the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re very Muggle today,” Ginny remarked.

“Mmhmm. Robards has Davidson and I following up on a report from a wizard in Manchester, in a muggle area, so we have to look the part. By the way, have you seen my black tie? It wasn’t in the closet.”

Ginny thought for a moment.

“I think it may be on the side table in the den. I seem to think it was on the floor and I picked it up, but it never quite made it back to the closet.”

“How’d it get on the floor in the den?” Harry asked with a puzzled look as he sat in his usual seat.

“Well, if I recall,” Ginny replied with a smirk as she sauntered over to his seat at the table, “the last time you wore that particular tie was also the time I made that excellent shot at practice and was promoted from Third Reserve Chaser to Second Reserve Chaser. I seem to remember a lot of celebration, and not a lot of caring where certain items ended up.”

“That would explain it then,” Harry remarked as he swiped his toast through the runny yolk on his plate. He glanced at the clock on the counter.

“You’d better go. Practice starts in a few minutes,” he told his wife.

Ginny leaned down to give him a kiss. She’d meant it to be a quick kiss goodbye, but Harry clearly had other intentions. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and drew her in deeper.

“Maybe we can find something else to celebrate, later,” he said in a low voice as he slowly released her from their embrace.

Ginny smiled at him coyly.

“Mmmmm. I like that idea,” she replied before straightening up, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Except that we promised Mum we’d be over tonight to do invitations for the wedding.” Ginny patted him on the head and laughed as his face fell.

“Bloody wedding,” he muttered insincerely as she stepped back, eliciting an even heartier laugh as she turned on the spot and popped out of their kitchen.

Ginny was still laughing when she appeared in the lobby of their training house only half a second later. Life with Harry was particularly cheery these days. Bill had taken them around to all their houses shortly after Christmas, and they’d decided to move into a quaint little cottage they owned in Northern Wales. They’d briefly considered Grimmauld Place, as it was now clean, airy, and ready to go from where they’d fixed it up for the Grangers, who were planning to move into their new home sometime before the end of January, but neither Harry nor Ginny was keen on living in the middle of the bustling city. The place still held a few too many unpleasant memories for Harry, anyway, despite its radically different appearance. The cottage put them in mind of a sturdier version of the Burrow, which meant it immediately felt like home, so they chose it. It took them a couple months to make the place ready, as it was rather outdated and hadn’t been lived in in a very long time, but by the end of February, they were happily living in their own home.

At first, they’d been over to the Burrow nearly every night for dinner and fellowship, but as time went on, they started enjoying the times when it was just the two of them. They developed a system. Ginny would make breakfast in the morning, and Harry would clean up, since he didn’t have to be at work until thirty minutes later than Ginny did. Then, when they got home from work, her from Holyhead, and him from London, they’d cook dinner together. Ginny had learned a lot just from watching her Mum and helping in the kitchen, and Harry knew his way around a stove from living with the Dursley’s, though Ginny did often have to remind him that some things were easier with magic. And despite their collective distaste for potion making, they were both quite adept at reading and following recipes.

Of course, there were still those nights when something would go wrong, and they’d end up back at the Burrow. Like a couple weeks ago, when they’d gotten a bit...distracted while they were cooking and managed to burn not one, but two separate attempts at dinner. They popped into the Burrow’s front yard just as her mum was setting the table. She looked at them knowingly, causing a blush to rise on Ginny’s cheeks, and Harry to say something about running off to find Ron, before she turned around with a grin and pulling two more plates from the cupboard.

Ginny found she rather enjoyed her newfound privacy, and she knew Harry did, too. It was a first for both of them. There was just something incredible about being able to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom wrapped only in a towel without having to worry about a brother walking by and making a snide comment. Not that Harry never commented, but his remarks were rather more appreciative than her brothers’ had ever been.

They hadn’t “fallen into bed with each other,” as they say, immediately after moving in. Not the first night, or the second night, or even the first couple weeks. But, with their bond strengthening as they spent more and more time together, it was inevitable that they would take that final step, especially given that Harry was no longer bound by his misgivings about being under her parents’ roof. And, to Ginny’s delight, he finally proved that there was one area of his life where he was not, in fact, disgustingly noble, given that he didn’t put up nearly as much fight as she expected him to when it finally did happen. Especially after the first time. Ginny was very much looking forward to Hermione’s visit over the Easter Holiday. She had so many things she needed to talk about with her best girl friend.

When things between Harry and Ginny began to escalate and it was clear to her that they weren’t going to be waiting much longer, she’d gone to the only other woman she knew who could offer advice: Fleur. She was wonderfully informative about all sorts of things Ginny had never considered, and the redhead spent an inordinate amount of time blushing furiously. Of course, when Ginny asked about the best form of contraception, the spell or the potion, Fleur had thrown her head back in laughter, gestured at her rounded belly, and said she was probably not the best person to ask.

Bill and Fleur had announced their pregnancy at Christmas, which brought a much-needed lightness to combat the heaviness of Fred’s conspicuous absence, and George’s uneasy peace with the Potters. The sullen twin even cracked a genuine smile. Bill and Fleur had chosen not to find out the sex of their baby, but they knew the newest Weasley would be born sometime around the middle of May. That was now just a bit over a month away.

Harry and Ginny had planned their wedding for the end of April, but then the Harpies had made the tournament playoffs and Ginny’s season was extended through June. Not wanting to complicate the already busy season of both their birthdays, or overlap with Bill and Fleur’s anniversary, they chose to push their wedding all the way to the end of August. They’d be officially re-tying the knot in a not-so-small ceremony on August 28th in the garden of their new home.

Molly had, of course, wanted to have the ceremony at the Burrow, but Harry and Ginny were anxious to show off their home to all their friends, and their back garden was just as remote and secluded as the one at the Burrow, so it made sense to have it at their house. Harry had been a little concerned about security, but Ginny had laughed and reminded him that almost the entirety of Dumbledore’s Army, most of the remaining Order of the Phoenix, and a sizeable chunk of the Auror department were all on the guest list, not to mention the formidable Weasley family, and an all-women Quidditch team renowned for its ferocity on and off the pitch. Their back garden would probably be the most well-guarded place that day.

Plus, Bill, Fleur, and Hermione had all agreed to double-check the wards before allowing anyone onto the grounds. That, more than anything, Ginny suspected, had put her husband’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, because of Harry’s celebrity status and Ginny’s role on a professional Quidditch team, they had once again become the center of Rita Skeeter’s attention, as well as several of the gossip columnists and some reporters from Witch Weekly. They’d even found their names in more than a few foreign papers, too. Their wedding was being touted as the Wedding of the Century, despite the fact that, legally, they were already wed and the whole ceremony was just for show...and because Ginny wanted it. The ceremony wouldn’t make them any more husband and wife than they already were, but the girlish part of Ginny that she rarely let out was too giddy about having the wedding of her dreams with the wizard of her dreams to just call it off. So, reluctantly, and with Percy’s help and advice, they sent out a small number of limited-access press invitations to the wedding. Rita Skeeter was not on the list.

Still chuckling over the disappointed look on Harry’s face and tracing her Serch Bythol mischievously, knowing he’d be cursing her good-naturedly as he was beginning the breakfast clean up, she walked into the locker room.

“Oi, girls! Potter’s got that look on her face again,” one of her teammates called out to the room with a smile.

“Did you and Harry have a pleasant morning, this morning?” another girl teased. “I noticed you’re a bit later than usual coming in, today. Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

Since day one, they’d assumed Ginny and Harry were sleeping together. After all, they said, who would be married to Harry Potter and not be warming his sheets? Despite growing up with older brothers who loved to make bawdy jokes, she often felt her face flaming at their innuendos those first several months. Since their relationship had shifted, though, she felt almost proud. Besides that, it was a form of acceptance with these women, and Ginny was glad to know they’d taken to her so quickly.

“No, thank you, Marcie. I never kiss and tell,” Ginny replied cheekily.

She opened her locker door and began pulling off her regular clothes and donning her practice gear. She’d been nervous at first, changing in a room full of older, stronger women, especially after one of the girls asked about her tattoo. She told them it was just something she’d seen somewhere and thought looked cool, and that was the end of that. Well, except maybe for the shrewd look she’d gotten from the Second Reserve Keeper, Siobhan. But if she knew what it really was, she’d been discreet about it and hadn’t told, so Ginny had put it out of her mind. Standing naked in a room full of women wasn’t so intimidating anymore.

“Notice she doesn’t deny that it happened, just says she won’t tell us about it. I do hope she’s on a good potion.” Devonna cried from across the room.

“She’s contractually obligated to be on one, same as you,” Gwenog Jones said as she walked out of the office to the side of the locker room, “whether or not she’s shagging Harry ‘Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World’ Potter or some random bloke from a bar like the sad lot of you ladies tend to do.” A chorus of laughs greeted her statement. Some of the girls were married or in serious relationships, but the unattached Harpies, including Gwenog herself, did have a bit of a reputation at the local bars. “Now, are we going to stand here and jabber about Potter’s sex life, or are we going to go out and get ready to crush Portree on Saturday? Here’s a hint: there is a wrong answer to this question.”

With that, the chatter died down as girls hastily finished pulling on pads and lacing up boots. They slammed their lockers shut and filed out onto the pitch, pulling gloves over their fingers to keep out the last of the winter chill. It may be getting warmer on the ground, but it was still cold in the air.

Ginny felt Harry grow more distant as he apparated to the Auror office in London. Tuning her senses away from their link, she mounted her broom and flew to the sky.

************************************ ************

Hermione paced nervously up and down the floor of her compartment. She hadn’t seen Ron since their last Hogsmeade weekend, Valentine’s Day, and hadn’t seen her parents since Christmas. As much as she missed her parents, she still somehow missed Ron more.

She’d been on the Hogwarts Express for hours already and she was ready to be home. She should have just apparated from the station, but she was so excited she was afraid she’d splinch herself. And, of course, once the train started moving, she lost her chance. Hermione had read all about the difficulties of apparating from a moving object, especially under emotional stress.

And she was definitely emotionally stressed.

She and Ron had been writing each other all year. Poor Pig had gotten quite the workout flying from Devon to Scotland and back on a weekly basis. Every letter he signed exactly the same. “Thinking of you, Ron”

Except the last one. It had arrived only the night before, coming straight to her window instead of waiting for owl post in the morning. He’d told her how excited he was about her coming to visit, how much he’d missed seeing her since February. He told her he missed kissing her, but also just being with her and hearing her voice. Such beautiful things he’d said, and Hermione had tears dancing in the corners of her eyes by the time she was finished. Then she’d read those last two lines, and had to do a double take.

“Love always,  
Ron”

Ginny would have thought she was crazy for reading so much into the signature of a letter, but Ron was nothing if not a creature of habit. For him to break that habit was...unusual. She couldn’t imagine it had been an accident. Especially considering Ron knew Hermione, knew how much she read into each little word. Since they’d been together, he’d made a conscious effort to choose his words more carefully, at least in his letters.

Had he consciously chosen these words, too?

Ron had mentioned that he’d arranged with her parents to pick Hermione up at the station, then take her to her parent’s new house, where she would stay for a few days before joining him at his flat in Diagon Alley. Shortly after Harry and Ginny had moved to Wales in February, he’d asked George if it would be alright if he took the empty room in his flat, the one that had once belonged to Fred. George had been hesitant, at first, but Arthur had said it would be good for both of them, so George had eventually agreed. Hermione knew Ron was happy to finally be living semi-independently, though she understood that he and George were frequently at the Burrow for supper, since Molly’s food was undoubtedly better than anything either of the boys could make.

Her parents and his, of course, thought she’d be staying at the Leaky Cauldron while she was there, and she had rented a room in her name, just in case, but she was secretly hoping that Ron had intended for her to stay with him at the flat. Not that Hermione was intending to get up to anything...untoward, but she missed her boyfriend, and they’d gotten accustomed to sleeping in the same bed while they were in Australia, though that felt like ages ago, now.

Even though she wasn’t planning anything with Ron, she was aware that something unexpected may happen while she was here, and she found she wasn’t opposed to the idea. It was her last trip home before the end of term, they’d been together for nearly a year, and things had been getting steadily more serious between the two of them. Despite Ron’s bumbling assertions when he’d picked her up for Christmas, they hadn’t, in fact, had sex. They’d done nearly everything else, though, and they always enjoyed snuggling and falling asleep together afterwards.

Besides, it had been Ron who’d stopped them in Australia, but if his behavior at their Hogsmeade visit was any indication, he wasn’t too keen on stopping them anymore.

Plus, there was the way he’d signed the letter. That had to mean something, right?

What if it didn’t? Could she take that step with Ron if she wasn’t sure of his feelings for her? She was willing enough, before, but she hadn’t really taken the time to think about it. How very unlike herself Ron made her, sometimes. How could she have even considered doing something so monumental without fully considering all the consequences and repercussions? It would change everything, their entire dynamic. But when she was with him, none of that seemed to matter.

Finally, she heard the squeal of the brakes and felt the train slow beneath her feet. She ran to the window to see them approaching the station. She dashed out of her compartment, her bags already shrunk to fit in her pocket, and stood waiting by the door. As soon as she heard the brakes hiss and felt the train come to a full stop, she threw open the door and ran out onto the platform.

She’d spied his ginger hair through the window as they slowed, and even on the ground he was a head above most everyone else so he was easy to spot. Not that it mattered. The crowd parted for her as she ran headlong into his open arms.

Hermione buried her face in Ron’s chest, inhaling the scent that was uniquely him as they clutched each other for dear life. She felt his body shift as he bent his head down and she lifted her face to meet his kiss. Uncaring of the people around them, she kissed him for all she was worth.

When she finally pulled back, he smiled down at her, his blue eyes shining with joy for having her back. She returned his smile with one of her own, and he reached down to clasp her hand in his.

“Shall we go?” he asked her. “I told your parents I’d have you back by six.”

Hermione glanced at her watch. It was only just after four. She gave him a curious look.

“I thought we might stop by my flat first. You know, since you haven’t seen it, yet,” he said, nervously scratching the back of his head. “But, you know, if you’d rather go straight to your parents, I understand. They have a new house, too, I suppose, and you’ve never seen it before, either. I just thought, well, that I missed you and I wanted some time with you before--”

She silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s fine, Ron. I’d love to see your flat.”

He held out his arm to her and she wrapped hers through it, drawing close to him as he side-along apparated her straight to top of the stairs. She looked around at the spartan room.

“This is the kitchen and living area,” Ron said. “As you can see, we don’t spend much time here. George is usually downstairs working, and when I’m home, I spend most of my time in my room. Come on. It’s this way.”

He led her down the only hall. There was a closed door on the right, one at the end of the hall, and another to the left.

“Loo,” Ron said, gesturing to the door at the end, “and that’s George’s room. Here’s mine.”

He pushed open the door on the left side of the hall after unlocking it with a complex wand motion. Hermione turned an inquisitive eye towards him.

“George has been his old self a lot more lately, which is good, except that I’ve opened my door to some unpleasant surprises several times in the last couple weeks. I started warding the door with one of those spells you taught me last year. He hasn’t figured out how to get through it, yet, but I’m sure he will eventually,” Ron remarked.

“I’ll show you a new one before I leave. I read a fascinating book about wards just the other day.”

Ron smiled at her. “Of course you did.” He shook his head with a chuckle as he walked fully into his room.

It was larger than Hermione expected, and cleaner. There was a desk in the corner, Ron’s bed from the Burrow along one wall, and a set of free weights rested on the floor in the corner next to the closet, which Hermione wisely decided not to open. Ron may be maturing, but he was still Ron, and she didn’t fancy being buried in whatever burst out of the closet when she opened the door.

Hermione took a seat in the desk chair as Ron closed and resealed the door. Pig hooted at her from his cage and she suddenly remembered the parchment in her pocket. Ron’s letter. She chewed her lip between her teeth in nervousness.

Ron’s hand fell on her knee, and he crouched in front of her, bringing their eyes to the same level. He peered at her with concern and gently pulled her lip from her teeth.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asked.

She pulled the letter from her pocket, now folded into a small square, and ran it between her thumb and forefinger. Ron looked from the letter to her face before he finally seemed to understand. He rocked back on his heels and looked at the floor.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask a question when he suddenly snapped his head back up and met her gaze.

“I meant it,” he said.

Hermione sat stunned, not sure she’d heard him quite right.

“What?” She inquired breathlessly.

“I said, I meant it. Every word. How much I’ve missed you. How much I looked forward to seeing you. Everything.”

Hermione exhaled. Of course. Of course he meant that. Not the end. Only the stuff in the main part of the letter.

“Oh,” she said. “Of course you did. I miss you, too.”

“And?” Ron prompted.

“And what?”

“What about…” Ron took a deep breath before something in him seemed to solidify, strengthen. “What about what I said at the end?”

Hermione opened the letter and scanned the last line.

“The part about seeing me tomorrow?”

“No. Not that part.”

“Oh. Then you must mean…”

“Hermione, I know you’re not that thick. The part at the very end. The part where I said I love you.”

“Oh,” Hermione said breathlessly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yes, I--I wondered about that.”

“Did you? Because I didn’t.”

“No?”

“Nope. I was sure it was exactly what I wanted to say when I wrote it down. Though I was a bit nervous about how you’d react. I ruined about twenty pieces of parchment letting the ink drip while I gathered the courage to write those two words.”

Hermione smiled. That sounded like Ron, forgetting that he could just scourgify the ink away from that one spot instead of getting a whole new parchment.

He put his finger under her chin and pulled her eyes up to meet his.

“I love you, Hermione Granger. I started to realize it sometime over this last term when I noticed how I counted down the days until I could write you again, until I could see you. And then, last week, George was working on one of his Wonder Witch products, and it requires a heavily diluted bit of Amortentia, but I happened to walk through the workroom while it was still strong, before he’d weakened it, and I thought you’d come back, somehow. I was sure you were right around the corner or standing behind me. I was looking around for you, and then George came in and I asked if he’d seen you, because I could swear that you were just there. He just pointed at the cauldron and walked away laughing. He’s been taking the mickey for days now, but I don’t even care because I can’t believe it took a sodding potion for me to realize that I love you. That’s why I wanted to come here with you first. I couldn’t...I couldn’t let you go off to your parents for three days without telling you how I felt. I’ve been a bloody wreck since Pig delivered your letter.”

Hermione sat there, glued to the chair. She should probably be offended that he didn’t know for sure that he loved her until a potion told him so, but that might be a bit hypocritical since it was in Slughorn’s class sixth year when she realized that the third thing she smelled in the potion was the same thing she always smelled when she was near Ron. Seemed fitting, in an ironic sort of way, that they both figured it out through the heady fumes of Amortentia.

Ron’s eyes were still shining at her and his fingers were still on her chin as she thought about what to do next. Even as she’d agonized over the truth of those words, somehow she’d never thought about what she would do if he had meant them. Maybe she should stop thinking so much.

She leaned forward and captured Ron’s lips with her own, sliding a hand around the back of his neck. He responded eagerly, tangling his fingers in her hair. Merlin, she loved it when his hands were in her hair. He scooted closer to her chair and she wrapped her legs around him, holding his body close to hers. She felt him smirk as he rocked his feet backwards, then stood, supporting her with strong arms as he walked them a few steps to the right, chuckling when Hermione gasped at suddenly finding herself supported by her boyfriend, rather than the chair.

She had the incongruous image of a set of free weights in the corner and suddenly it made sense. Apparently the physical part of Auror training had been doing him some good.

She felt her back slam into the wall as he pinned her roughly with his body, keeping one arm under her and transferring the other back to her hair. He was kissing her hungrily, demanding more and more, and she was giving it happily.

His hand tightened on her thigh and she let out an audible gasp.

They were interrupted by a pounding on the door.

“Oi! Ronniekins, just because I can’t open your door doesn’t mean I can’t hear anything through it. Keep it down in there, would you? A nice silencing charm might be appropriate, eh? And don’t forget those contraceptive spells! Tell Hermione I said hello, and I’ll see her soon. Fully clothed, I hope!”

Ron rested his forehead on hers, both of them breathing heavily, and Hermione still pinned to the wall. Her face was flushed, partly from kissing and partly George’s insinuations. Slowly she unwound her legs from Ron’s back, and he helped lower her gently to the floor.

“Sorry about him. Didn’t know he was about,” Ron said sheepishly.

“It’s okay. It’s probably for the best. Mum and Dad...I don’t know if I could face them right after we’d--”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Besides. I don’t want you to think I said I love you, just so I could get into your knickers.”

Hermione reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think that.”

“Good.”

“And Ron?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too.”


	27. Chapter 27

The morning of 2 May 1999 dawned bright and clear, as if the weather were unaware of the darkness of such a day. Harry and Ginny were both off work, it being a Sunday, and a newly-minted Wizarding holiday, but neither felt much like doing anything but laying in the bed, curtains drawn, arms encircling each other, pretending the outside world does not exist.

Of course, the outside world does exist, and Harry and Ginny were forced to get up and be a part of it.

Pulling on his best black robes, Harry turned to see Ginny behind him doing her hair up into a tidy knot on the back of her head. Over the last several months of being married to and living with this woman, Harry had learned that her hair often reflected her mood. When Ginny’s hair was in a ponytail or a braid, she was energized and ready for activity, often Quidditch. When it was down and flowing, she was calm and relaxed, usually comfortably at home. When it was mussed, well, that tended to be Harry’s fault, so he knew precisely what that meant. But when it was entirely contained in a bun or a knot, like it was now, it meant his wife was stoic, severe, and impossibly grown up.

He walked across the room and wrapped his hands around her from behind, laying his chin on her shoulder as they gazed into the mirror together. She reached up and placed her hand on the side of his head, leaning their faces together and closing her eyes.

“Do we have to go?” Harry asked, not for the first time.

“Yes, love. We owe it to the ones we lost.”

“I can honor them any day of the year. I certainly never forget about them. But why this? Why all this ceremony? This was, without a doubt, the worst day of my life. I don’t want to have to remember it with anyone except you.”

“I know. But we need to go. People will expect you to be there, and it wouldn’t be right for you not to be.”

Harry nodded as he rubbed his hands up and down his wife’s arms, drawing comfort from her strength. He would need her today. They would need each other.

Harry had been informed of the plans for the memorial of the anniversary of his defeat of Voldemort only a few short days ago. The Minister himself had told Harry in person, and when Harry asked why it was such late notice, Kingsley laid a hand on his shoulder and informed him that this way, he wouldn’t have time to plan to be somewhere else.

Harry had to admit, the man knew him well.

So, here he was, trying to look his best as he prepared to join hundreds of other survivors and family members for a day of remembrance at Hogwarts, a place to which he had never wanted to return. How Hermione stood it day after day, he would never understand.

They hadn’t made breakfast today. Neither of them could stand the thought of eating, and every time he glanced at a clock he thought about what he was doing at that exact moment the previous year. It was a pointless exercise, though, since he hadn’t had a clock then to tell him what time it was. Besides that, since he offed Voldemort at dawn, by the time they’d gotten up this morning, the only thing he could compare the time to was exactly what time he’d carried in this corpse, or dug through that pile of debris, or when he finally collapsed in exhaustion. Still, this was exactly why he’d wanted to hide in bed all day.

Ginny put one more pin in her hair and waved her wand over it as she stood and grabbed his hand.

“Ready?” She asked him.

“No. Never. But let’s go,” he replied.

Hand-in-hand, they apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

They shivered in unison as they gazed upon the place Harry once thought of as home. Now, home was the place he’d just disappeared from. It’s amazing how things can change in a year. They joined a steady stream of black-clad witches and wizards walking through the open front gates. As people began to notice his arrival, the way before them parted and people slowed and fell into step behind them, until Harry and Ginny were walking at the head of the column. Harry’s hands had begun to sweat and his collar felt far too tight on his neck. He resisted the urge to tug on it.

Ginny’s reassurance flowed across their bond as she gripped his hand tighter while they walked. He was endlessly thankful that she was there with him. Harry knew he could never have done this on his own.

It felt like an age had passed before they arrived at the main doors to the castle, which had been left open to the warmth outside. People were already milling about the Entrance Hall talking quietly with each other. Despite the number of people, the noise level was surprisingly low and the atmosphere somber.

He saw many current and former Hogwarts students standing around in groups, reuniting with friends or parents. He nodded when he got a wave from one of the Patil twins who was standing with a few other DA members in a corner. He and Ginny entered the Great Hall.

The space had been converted from a dining hall to something resembling an auditorium by manner of the removal of the house tables, though the floating candles and enchanted ceiling remained the same. In place of the house banners, black banners bearing the Hogwarts crest in glittering silver thread hung around the room. More chairs than Harry could begin to count filled the room in neat rows, and many were already occupied. Per the Minister’s instructions, Harry and Ginny made their way to the seats reserved for them on the front row. Harry frowned when he noticed the front row only contained six seats.

Four of those seats were already occupied. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were seated together talking in hushed voices. They greeted Harry with solemn smiles and moved to the sides as he and Ginny sat in the center, Harry with Ron and Hermione to his right and Ginny with Neville and Luna to her left. Suddenly, a gong sounded through the building and people began taking seats. Harry noticed that the members of the DA sat in the row immediately behind them with the rest of the Weasley family and the remaining members of the Order. The ministry department heads sat in the third row, and the other attendees and students haphazardly filled in the rows behind them. Harry wondered at the unusual arrangement. From the few formal occasions he’d already been forced to attend, he knew that the department heads were usually seated at the front, not in the third row.

As the last of the seats were filled, the doors were closed with a bang, and the noise in the Great Hall dwindled to silence. Four scarlet-clad Aurors emerged from the room at the back of the hall, the Minister of Magic between them. They escorted him to the raised podium at the front of the room before joining their colleagues-in-arms at the sides of the hall.

Harry, Ron, and Neville hadn’t questioned it when Kingsley had told them they wouldn’t have to work today, since it was a Sunday and a holiday, after all, but suddenly Harry had a sneaking suspicion that something was going on that he wasn’t fully aware of. He’d assumed, perhaps naively, that all the Auror’s had the day off, and he had actually been nervous about security for this event. Clearly his concerns were unfounded. A quick scan of the faces stationed around the room told him that nearly the entire force was on active duty today, and, if he had to guess, he’d bet that the ones he couldn’t see were stationed somewhere outside the school, guarding the perimeter. So why had Harry, Ron, and Neville, alone of all the other Aurors, been excused?

“Students of Hogwarts, friends, colleagues, and members of our international magical community, I welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Kingsley said in a deep ringing voice as he stood at the podium. Harry turned to listen. “We all know what today is. A year ago, many of us stood in this exact room bleeding, bruised, exhausted, and grief-stricken. There are few of us here today who can say we were unaffected by loss as a result of the Battle of Hogwarts that was fought on these grounds, in this building, and in this very room.

Only a year removed from these tragic events, it is still difficult to see the light in these dark times. Our wounds are still raw. Our pain is still fresh. Yet, we are here. Death, even death in times of war, is always senseless and pointless, and we are often tempted to lose ourselves in those feelings, but I would challenge you to see differently. Each of us sitting here owes our lives to someone who may or may not still be with us. I myself owe my life to Bill Weasley.”

Harry gasped with the rest of the Weasley family. This story was new to him.

“William Arthur Weasley,” Kingsley continued, “may not even know that he saved my life, but he did. A very close friend of mine and her husband had just been brutally cut down in front of me, fighting back to back to defend each other, they fell together, leaving behind an infant son who was the joy of their lives,” Harry felt his eyes grow heavy with unshed tears as he recognized Remus and Tonks in Kingsley’s tale. “This woman was a friend and coworker, and her husband was one of the finest men I knew, despite the fact that he was a werewolf. Their deaths incapacitated me in a way that I had never experienced before. My shield charm failed and I found myself unable to think of a single spell to defend myself or cast at my opponent. He raised his wand, ready to send the killing curse at me, when he suddenly fell to a Stunner cast by Bill Weasley. The miraculous part was that the Stunner wasn’t even aimed at him. Bill had aimed that spell at the man his wife was dueling, but that Death Eater stepped aside at just the right moment so that Bill’s curse struck my attacker instead. He had saved my life completely by accident. It was enough to shake me back into action, and I wrapped the stunned man in thick ropes and took up a defensive stance over the bodies of my friends. It was minutes later that Voldemort called his cease fire and I was able to carry them inside.

Bill is still living, but many of those we owe our lives to have passed on. Our friends should not have had to die for us to win this war, but each of them was willing to make that ultimate sacrifice if it meant that those of us here could live our lives free of the terror that had haunted us for far too long. For all that they have done, we thank them. In the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, where the Fountain of Magical Brethren once stood, I have commissioned a monument to honor those who fell in the fight against Voldemort. Construction on this new monument will begin tomorrow, and an unveiling ceremony will be held when it is completed. For all those who paid the ultimate price for our freedom from tyranny, we will never be able to thank them enough. This is only a small measure, but it is a start.

The fallen are not the only ones to whom we owe our gratitude. Some of our greatest heroes walk among you every day. You pass them in the halls of the Ministry. You see them in Diagon Alley. Yet, you may not know what these people have done. Today, we recognize them all. Would all surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix please rise,” Kingsley commanded.

The rustling of cloaks and creaking of chairs from behind him made Harry turn his head. The Weasley family stood tall and proud, Bill’s hand supporting the back of a heavily-pregnant Fleur, and beside them stood all that was left of the once-great Order of the Phoenix. There weren’t nearly as many as there should have been, and the absence of Remus and Tonks was keenly felt.

“Members of the Order of the Phoenix, I am proud to have been among your ranks. I have never served with more dedicated witches and wizards. You were not trained soldiers, but bankers, housewives, shopkeepers, and teachers. Each of you is also a warrior. We lost far too many, and each of them far too soon, but without every one of you, we would not be here, today. Until now, your involvement with the Order of the Phoenix has been a well-guarded secret. The time for secrets has passed. You are all heroes, and you deserve to be recognized as such. For your service to your country and magical community, and for going beyond the call of duty, the Ministry of Magic is pleased to award each of you with an Order of Merlin, Third Class.”

Harry gasped along with everyone else as he smiled and clapped for his family behind him. Now that Kingsley had started giving out awards, Harry knew what was coming, and it weighed on his heart, but even that could not dim the pride that he felt for these people.

Kingsley signaled for the applause to stop as he spoke again. “Would all surviving members of the student defense organization known as Dumbledore’s Army please stand,” he commanded again. Harry felt and heard his friends all rise to their feet, including his five front row companions. Harry remained seated, feeling somehow that this group belonged to Neville now, but his friends tugged on his sleeves and called his name until he relented and pushed himself out of his seat with a sigh.

“Dumbledore’s Army was formed in 1995 by Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger as an attempt to bridge the gap between what they were being taught in their ‘ministry approved’ Defense classes, and what Harry and his friends knew would be necessary for survival in the real world. The group operated in secret for several months, during which time Harry and his friends successfully taught these students how to defend themselves from Death Eaters and Dementors, with several of these young witches and wizards producing Patronus Charms, a skill many trained adult wizards do not have. The following year, this group of students came to the defense of Hogwarts when it was infiltrated by Death Eaters and prevented Voldemort’s forces from doing significant damage to the school.

Last year, Dumbledore’s Army was called up again with new leaders: Neville Longbottom, Ginny Potter, and Luna Lovegood. Under the leadership of these three students, the members of Dumbledore’s Army protected themselves and others from the violence of Death Eaters masquerading as teachers, often choosing to take punishments such as physical beatings and Cruciatus curses in the place of their younger or more vulnerable classmates. When Voldemort and his forces came to Hogwarts, they rallied to its defense, even smuggling in past members, to contribute to the fighting force. Each of these students fought valiantly, with some even losing their lives or suffering disfigurement in order to ensure peace. It is humbling when children fight the wars of adults, and though it should never happen, we thank you for all you have done. For your unwavering dedication to the light and your willingness to fight a battle that you never should have had to fight, the Ministry of Magic is pleased to award each of you with an Order of Merlin, Third Class.”

After the applause died down, Kingsley stepped to the podium again and gestured for the Order and DA to be seated.

“As a special note to the families of members of these two groups who lost their lives in the struggle, please know that posthumous awards have also been granted to those who made the ultimate sacrifice. A shiny medal cannot fill the gap in your heart left by the loss of a friend or relative, but their service should not go unrecognized. Please accept these awards on behalf of those who cannot, and know that our hearts are with you.” Kingsley paused and pulled in a deep breath to compose himself. Harry could hear the sound of soft sobs and sniffs coming from the unnumbered people behind him.

“Though these people went beyond the call,” the Minister continued, “there were some who went still farther--whose innovative leadership carried us through to success. Would Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ginevra Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall please stand again.”

They stood.

“These six individuals were leaders of Dumbledore’s Army and the Order of the Phoenix, along with Albus Dumbledore, and it is because of their leadership that we sit before you today. By creating and leading these organizations, they provided the bulk of our fighting force a year ago, and they also carry the greatest burdens of responsibility for those lost. For their innovative leadership, and for doing what none of the rest of us had the courage to do, the Ministry of Magic is pleased to award these individuals with the Order of Merlin, Second Class. Special congratulations should be given to Ginny Potter, for being the youngest ever recipient of this prestigious award.”

Harry knew what was coming next, and he sighed deeply as Kingsley once again gestured for the applause to stop and for his friends to sit.

“Though these individuals served in unfathomable ways, there is one individual to whom we owe our lives several times over. Without his selfless sacrifice and dedication to the light, there is little doubt that Voldemort would have won, and many of us here today would simply not be. Would Harry Potter please stand.”

Harry stood slowly to his feet, keeping one hand clenched tightly in Ginny’s as he felt every eye trained on him, and the weight of all those lost sat heavily on his shoulders.

“Harry’s life has been a challenge since his earliest days. What many of you may not know, is that Harry was prophesied to be the one to defeat Voldemort shortly after James and Lily Potter brought him into the world. With his life in danger, the Potters went into hiding, but were betrayed by a close friend, Peter Pettigrew. When Voldemort came to the Potters home to kill Harry, Lily’s sacrifice for her son protected him from Voldemort’s curse, which rebounded upon its caster, and expelled Voldemort from his body, leaving Harry with his signature lightning bolt scar. Harry then lived with his muggle relatives in ignorance of the wizarding world until his eleventh birthday, when he received his Hogwarts letter. From his first year, Harry and his friends, Ron and Hermione, battled Voldemort in various forms, until he was reborn during the tragic events of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry went on to defy the Ministry, establish an army of students, and teach them to defend themselves all in secret. He later trained with Albus Dumbledore himself to be uniquely equipped to destroy Voldemort. All of this before the poor boy had even come of age.

Harry learned of his role in this war, and rather than fleeing and leaving us all to our fate, he rose to the challenge and worked hard to save us all. He, and his friends, traveled the country in secret last year, fearing for their lives daily, in order to hunt down and destroy various objects that would lead to the destruction of Voldemort. On this day, one year ago, Harry marched into the forest, into what he knew would be his death, to selflessly sacrifice himself, to save us all. Harry was killed in the forest. Through a unique connection to Voldemort that even Harry did not know the limits of, he was given the chance to return and finish the job he was born to do. He did not expect to walk out of that forest. He did not expect to see his friends or the girl he loved ever again. Yet, he was given a gift, and he stands before us today, victorious, but with a burden of guilt none of the rest of us can even imagine. Though there is nothing more he could possibly have done, this young man carries the weight of every lost life as if it was he himself who had killed them. A more selfless and generous person you could not find.

We owe him our lives, since he willingly gave his up for us. Much as the way his mother’s sacrifice protected him from death, his sacrifice would have protected us, and Harry made that choice willingly. Harry has lived an extraordinary life. He has defied all logic and has set more records than he probably is even aware of. In a moment, Harry will again set a record as being the youngest wizard to ever receive this award by a margin of forty-seven years. This award is typically given after a lifetime of selfless service to the wizarding world, however, at the tender age of eighteen, Harry has already given his life for us, both figuratively and literally. Because of this, and because he did it all with the purest heart, it is my immense pleasure to confer upon Harry James Potter, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, and with the support of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Order of Merlin, First Class.”

The applause was deafening as people rose to their feet to give Harry a standing ovation. Tears ran down Ginny’s cheeks as she embraced him tightly, and he buried his face into her neck. Harry didn’t deserve this award, didn’t want the award, but he knew that nothing he could say would change the fact that it had been given to him. And, in a way, he knew that the Minister was right. He’d already forfeit one lifetime to war. With his second life, he really just wanted to live in peace.

Suddenly a commotion in the row behind him drew his attention, as a feminine cry of pain reached his ears. With the deafening applause still ringing and reverberating throughout the hall, only those nearest to the source of the noise were aware of it.

However, as Harry and his battle-hardened friends drew their wands, the Aurors stationed nearest them stood to attention and brought their own wands to bear. Slowly, people were becoming aware of a disturbance.

Another cry of pain reached his ears and he finally recognized the voice. He turned to search the row behind him and his wand-hand fell to his side as a bewildered look crossed his face.

Bill Weasley stood over his wife, who was seated heavily in her chair, her face red and tight with pain, both hands clutching her swollen stomach.

“Mum!” Bill called in a panic, but Molly Weasley was already moving down the row, pushing people out of the way to reach her pregnant daughter-in-law. Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him to her family, Ron and Hermione only a step behind, wands still gripped in their hands.

“How long have you been having contractions, dear?” Molly asked the red-faced Veela as the family began to instinctively form a protective circle around the woman.

“All morning,” she replied sheepishly, looking at Bill askance.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “You told me you were fine!”

“I knew ‘ow much you wanted to come to support your--ah!” she broke off with a cry of pain. “...your family.” Fleur panted as she bent forward with another contraction.

“Merlin, those are coming quick,” Bill muttered as he took her hand. “How have you been hiding this?”

“Veela are excellent at bearing pain,” Fleur replied, “but I think I ‘ave reached my limit. I think eet is time.”

“You have a bit of time, dear,” Molly soothed. “It doesn’t look like your water’s broken yet, so we should be able to get you to St. Mungos.”

Fleur’s reply was too quiet for Harry to hear, but Bill’s response wasn’t.

“What! What do you mean it broke this morning? We left the house ages ago! Merlin, Fleur, we have to get you to St. Mungo’s right away! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Bill tried to coax her out of her seat so they could floo to the hospital as apparation wasn’t possible in her condition, but he was stopped by his mother’s hand on his arm.

“Bill, if her water broke this morning, and she’s having these contractions now, you won’t be able to get to St. Mungo’s without risking the baby. We’ll get her to the infirmary as soon as we can, but this baby is coming. Today. Soon.”

Molly turned to the rest of her family. “Whoever’s best at conjuration, we’re going to need a stretcher.” Hermione waved her wand obligingly and a sturdy medical stretcher appeared on the ground in front of her. George and Ron immediately directed levitating charms at it as Charlie and Bill moved Fleur to lay on her back across the chairs and lifted her onto the stretcher.

“I need someone to find me a Healer or Madame Pomphrey and get up to the infirmary,” she continued. Ginny took off like a shot into the crowd, firing a rainbow of sparks from her wand, which Harry later learned was a signal they’d used the previous year to indicate a medical emergency. As soon as they saw the sparks, the members of the DA who weren’t already close enough to know what was happening within the circle of Weasleys immediately straightened and moved out of the way of the running girl. The Professors and DA rose and began shepherding people to the side to make an aisle. It wasn’t enough. The uproar happening within a crowd of heroes had drawn the attention of the entire audience. Curious eyes locked onto the Weasley family, and even Neville and the DA’s best efforts couldn’t get enough people to move. They were stuck.

Molly’s eyes met Harry’s. “Harry, dear, I’m going to need you to use your unique skills.” Harry nodded uncertainly. “I need you to make a path.” Harry grinned.

“I think I can do that,” he said.

He straightened to his full height and raised his wand into the air. He let off a loud bang followed by three sharp whistles. Every Auror in the room turned to face him as he brought his wand to his throat and muttered “Sonorous.”

“Medical Emergency, clear a path!” he called with authority. Immediately, people began to move out of the way, Harry’s celebrity status working to his advantage for once. The Aurors filed into the vacant spaces and pushed the crowd back even further, making a wide enough path for Ron and George to levitate Fleur’s stretcher with Bill clutching her hand beside her. He could see that Ginny and a group of DA were escorting Madame Pomphrey out the door at a fast clip, and some of the department heads had stepped in to help the Aurors push people to the side. He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to find Hermione looking at him with her intelligent eyes. He bent his head to hear her over the noise in the room, nodded, and straightened before he repeated her words to the room.

“Are there any maternity specialists in here?” he asked. A woman stepped forward.

“I’m the Head Healer at St. Mungo’s and I worked twenty years as a labor and delivery MediWitch. Will that be sufficient, Mr. Potter?”

Harry blinked at her in astonishment. She was more than qualified. “Er, yes. Come with us, please.”

Robards in his red robe was seated two seats to her right. He grabbed her arm and escorted her through the crowd and fell into step behind Harry as they brought up the rear of the column. Harry could hear the curious onlookers begin to speculate as they marched through the crowd. He shook his head ruefully. Once again, Harry would be on the front page of the Prophet in the morning. As he passed through the doors of the Great Hall, a team of Aurors and DA members quickly moved to close them.

“Wait!” Harry heard just before the doors closed. He caught sight of Percy’s red hair pushing through the crowd and Harry motioned for them to open the doors a bit wider. The only Weasley brother who wasn’t seated with the rest of the family, not having been a member of the Order of the Phoenix, rushed out the door, a pretty brunette’s hand clenched tightly in his own.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Fleur’s having the baby,” Harry answered as he motioned for the doors to be closed, “er...from what I understand at least. I’ve never really seen anyone have a baby before, so I haven’t a clue, but that’s what your mum said.”

“She would know, wouldn’t she?” Percy asked rhetorically as they quickened their pace. Harry murmured in agreement.

Harry, Robards, the Head of St. Mungo’s, whose name Harry hadn’t bothered to ask, Percy, and his mystery woman hurried up the stairs to the infirmary to help bring the latest Weasley into the world, the sounds of confusion and wild rumors from the Great Hall behind them cutting off with a bang as the doors were finally closed.


	28. Chapter 28

Harry entered the hospital wing to a bustle of activity. Molly stood in the middle of the room conducting the whole thing like a grand orchestra. Ginny was summoning towels and clean aprons like the one Madame Pomphrey always wore to a neat pile on an empty bed. Ron and George were holding the stretcher steady, with their hands, not their wands, as Charlie, Bill, and Arthur cautiously shifted Fleur onto the bed. Angelina, who’d been sat by George as a show of moral support, and thus was swept up in the drama and ended up in the hospital wing with the family, was near a cabinet taking out potions as Madame Pomphrey yelled the names across the room to her, as she consulted a rather large book in her office.

When the Hogwarts Matron caught sight of the Head Healer of St Mungos striding confidently through the doors, her face lit up in a relieved grin.

“Julia!” she called out.

The healer by Harry’s side waved and replied, “Poppy! It’s been an age!”

“It certainly has! But I’m glad you’re here. Delivering babies isn’t something I do much of at a school for teenagers. Here, come and see.”

Julia, as the healer was apparently called, grabbed a clean apron from the stack Ginny had amassed with a polite smile at the young woman. She slipped it on right over her formal robes, rolled up her sleeves, and took her wand from a previously unseen pocket. She strode confidently to Madame Pomphrey’s side and began casting a series of charms that Harry had never heard of before, but that were apparently important to the two women.

“Well, Mrs. Weasley--excuse me, what’s your name, dear?” Julia asked the pregnant woman.

“Fleur. Fleur Weasley,” she croaked.

“Right then Fleur Weasley, it looks like we’re having a baby, today. How long ago did your water break?”

“During my shower zis morning. About three or four ‘ours, I theenk.”

“And how long have you been having frequent contractions?”

“Since ze Minister started ‘is speech.”

“I see. I understand that they’ve only become painful in the past few moments, though, yes?”

“Oui, Madame, I am afraid something ees wrong. Zee baby ees not due for anozer two weeks.” Fleur’s accent was getting stronger by the minute as her face shone with sweat.

“Well the diagnostics I’ve performed indicate that you and the baby are both fine, it just appears that the next Weasley is eager to make an appearance. This does tend to happen, especially in first pregnancies. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Fleur’s face relaxed for a moment before it scrunched again in pain as she gripped Bill’s hand and curled in on herself.

“Then why is it hurting her so much?” Bill asked.

“Well, childbirth is hardly pleasant, Mr. Weasley, even in the best circumstances. I understand she’s part Veela, and that’s helped to ease the pain thus far, but, unfortunately, it’s just one of those things that often happens during labor. The fetus is in a good position, but she’s not quite dilated enough to begin pushing, so the contractions are going to be very painful for a while. Madame Pomphrey has some pain potions that can help, but the only one approved for use during labor is going to make her a bit foggy, I’m afraid. Because of her unique biology, we don’t have as many options as we typically do. I’ll let you discuss it with your wife, but if she’s going to take it, we’ll need to administer it soon for her to be able to keep it down.”

Healer Julia moved away from the couple to give them a bit of privacy to discuss the pain potion, but Fleur’s adamant head shakes made their decision pretty clear. She waved a hand at Madame Pomphrey, who directed Angelina to put a few potions back in the cabinet. Fleur would do it without the potion.

“I understand your decision Mrs. Weasley. Many women don’t want to be in a haze when they deliver their first child. I will caution you, though, we have a long road ahead of us, and Veela births are rarely without complication. We’ll do the best we can to make you comfortable, but we may be here for a few more hours before we meet our precious baby.”

Fleur nodded and looked at Bill, who stood beside her resolutely.

“My muzzer?” she questioned him.

“Ginny’s speaking to them in the Floo, now, dear,” Molly replied, coming to stand beside her son. “I’m sure your parents will be here as soon as they’re able,” she soothed.

It was only moments later that the fire flared green and a very blonde woman that Harry remembered to be Fleur’s mother stepped quickly but elegantly from the Floo, followed more sedately by her husband.

Fleur’s face lit with a smile as her anxiety seemed to melt away. Her mother embraced her, before they began conversing in rapid French. Her mother appeared to be scolding her for waiting so long to tell Bill, at which point the red-head in question spoke up with his own bit of French.

“Didn’t know Bill could speak French,” Harry heard Ron mutter from his right. He’d been so engrossed in what was going on that he hadn’t even seen his friend approach.

“Well, it seems only fair, doesn’t it, since she learned to speak English for him? And he works at Gringotts, so I expect it’s a valuable skill to be able to speak more than one language,” Hermione replied knowingly, as she slipped her hand into Ron’s.

Ginny slid up next to Harry and took his hand.

“Potter! Weasley!” Robards suddenly called from where Harry had left him near the door. Harry had completely forgotten he was there.

“Sir!” they both turned and straightened their shoulders.

“I’m going to station a few men outside the doors here. You two are officially back on active duty, and in charge of security on the inside. Don’t let anyone in without the proper authorization code from myself or the Minister. Do you remember this week’s code?”

“Yes, Sir!” they called, almost in unison.

“Good. We’ll keep this wing safe as long as it takes, boys. You understand? Tell the family not to worry. I’ll be outside this door myself to make sure nothing gets in to you lot. This room’s got more war heroes in it than I can stand to lose.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry said.

Robards nodded as he strode through the doors to the hospital wing, pulling them closed behind him. Harry and Ron immediately raised their wands and cast some charms and wards at the door. After they were finished, Hermione added one of her own, with a shy look at Ron.

“I told you I read a book about wards last month,” she muttered sheepishly. Ron’s reply was to press a kiss to the top of her head and pull her into his side.

When the four turned back to Fleur’s bed, they were surprised to see it surrounded by privacy screens. Someone must have done something about the sound, too, because it was amazingly quiet, where once Fleur’s cries could be heard periodically, along with the sound of Madame Pomphrey and Healer Julia discussing things using terms Harry was sure couldn’t possibly be English.

The Weasley boys and Arthur, plus Angelina, and Percy’s mystery woman, stood to the side, conversing quietly, with the obvious exception of Bill, who was likely still behind the curtain. A moment later, Fleur’s father strode out from behind a privacy screen and joined Arthur, who kindly conjured a comfortable chair for him.

“What happens now?” Harry asked as the quartet approached the makeshift sitting area.

“Now, son, we wait,” said Arthur with the air of someone who had done this a time or two before. Hermione waved her wand and two comfortable sofas appeared before them. Harry eased onto one, ensuring he still had a good view of the door, his protective instincts kicking in as always. Ginny curled into his side and he felt her joy and something he’d only be able to confusingly call calm excitement flow through them both and he settled down to wait.

************************************ ***********************

Both Mr. Weasley and Healer Julia were right. It was a few hours before anyone heard anything from behind the screen. Hermione proved her conjuration skills again and again as she conjured not just a chess set for Ron and Percy, but also a deck of functional Exploding Snap cards for George and Charlie. She also had to replace George’s chair when his conjuration failed unexpectedly and he fell to the ground in an undignified heap, though no one was entirely sure if it had really been an accident or if he’d done it on purpose, as the resounding laughter brought a satisfied smirk to his face that seemed highly suspicious to all who knew him.

Percy had long ago introduced Audrey, who had taken to the intimidating crowd of Weasleys with admirable grace. She seemed to fit right in, in fact, and was easily chatting with everyone within moments. Ginny smiled to see the way her stoic brother interacted with his new girlfriend. His steady presence at her side, and gentle hand on her back had not gone unnoticed by the youngest Weasley, now Potter, and Ginny was certainly pleased.

Audrey seemed to be good for Percy.

He was certainly smiling more than he used to, and the shame that had seemed to color his interactions with his family appeared to be somehow lessened. He interacted with them all with an ease that Ginny wasn’t sure he’d ever had until now. Of course, he was still Percy, and had quickly tired of the inane conversations around him, so when Ron had challenged him to a game of chess, he had readily agreed.

Harry and Ginny sat comfortably ensconced on the corner of their sofa, ostensibly watching Ron and Percy’s chess game, but also occasionally contributing to the flow of conversation or simply just relaxing together. Despite the craziness of the day so far, the two rarely got a chance to simply be together, and they were relishing this opportunity.

It was sometime in the middle of Ron and Charlie’s chess game (the younger brother had long since beaten both Percy and George) that Ginny’s mum emerged from behind the curtain with a smile.

Immediately, everyone was on their feet. All conversation stopped.

Molly gestured to someone behind her and Bill stepped forward, a tiny bundle of blankets clutched protectively in his arms and a look of unabashed glee and wonder upon his face.

Arthur stepped forward first, followed closely by Fleur’s father, Philipe Delacour.

“Dad, Philipe, I’d like to introduce you to your first granddaughter, Victoire Aline Weasley.”

Ginny watched her father as he gazed down at the tiny bundle in Bill’s arms. Molly gestured with her arms and in ones and twos, the scattered Weasleys approached the beaming father to see their first niece.

Though Harry had gained confidence with babies through his regular visits with Teddy, Ginny could feel his apprehension. Neither of them had seen a baby this new, and she was still so fragile. When Ron and Hermione stepped away from the child with congratulations for Bill, Ginny gripped Harry’s hand, and sent him feelings of calm and reassurance as they approached Bill and little Victoire.

Ginny’s experience with babies was nearly as limited as Harry’s, but as soon as she saw the baby-smooth skin and whisps of red-blonde hair, she knew that there couldn’t possibly be a more beautiful child that had ever been born. Ginny couldn’t tell yet whether she would favor Bill or Fleur in appearance, but she did know that she would grow to be even more beautiful than she was now. She raised a cautious finger and stroked it down the side of Victoire’s face, smiling when Victoire scrunched up her face and opened her baby-blue eyes.

“Hello, Victoire. It’s Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. We’re so glad to meet you, today.” Ginny cooed softly at the babe. Victoire’s response was simply to close her eyes and nestle further into her blankets.

“Congratulations, Bill,” Ginny said, hugging her brother around the side, careful not to disturb the baby in his arms. “She’s beautiful.”

Bill beamed

“Isn’t she, though? She’s absolutely perfect,” he sighed as he looked at his daughter with love once again. He gazed at her in silent admiration for a moment before he sighed. “I should probably get her back to Fleur. They’re going to move her to a private room at St. Mungos in a bit so she and the baby can recover, and Madame Pomphrey doesn’t have to worry about students coming in when classes start back up tomorrow.”

“Go on, then, dear,” Molly said, from Bill’s side. “We’ll come around to help get you both settled when she’s released. Do you need anything before we go?”

“No, Mum, thanks. I think we’re okay. We’ve had the nursery set up for weeks, already.”

“Good. Then we’ll take the family and give you two some peace. Congratulations, Bill.”

“Congratulations, son,” Arthur echoed. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first grandchild. She certainly brought a light to this dark day.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Her parents gave their oldest son another set of fierce hugs, then let him get back to his waiting wife. Ginny and Harry joined them as they gathered up the remaining Weasley’s and set about putting the hospital wing to rights. In moments, they were ready to go.

It was then that Ginny saw her mother notice Audrey for the first time.

“Oh, hello, dear. I’m not sure we’ve met,” she greeted with a smile.

Percy stepped forward, taking Audrey’s hand and pulling her in front of his parents.

“Mum, this is my girlfriend, Audrey O’Hannan. She works with me at the Ministry. We’ve, er, been seeing each other since August,” Percy said, uncharacteristically nervous.

In typical Molly Weasley fashion, she grabbed the young brunette and pulled her to her breast in a crushing hug as she exclaimed with joy, “Well isn’t today just a day for wonderful surprises!”

************************* ************************

Since Harry’s first visit with Teddy Lupin, he found that he quite enjoyed spending time with his young godson. Though his schedule was chaotic, and he was a young newlywed, Harry made time to visit the boy at least once a week, usually on Sundays, which meant that the child was a semi-regular fixture at the Burrow for Sunday dinners. There were times, of course, when Harry would have to return Teddy to Andromeda’s before dinner, and there were some weeks when Harry and Ginny chose to spend the evening eating at Andromeda’s instead, but more often than not, Teddy, and occasionaly his austere grandmother, joined the rest of the family at the Burrow for what had quickly become a Sunday dinner tradition.

Harry had marveled at Teddy’s rapid growth. They’d celebrated his first birthday with a large family party only a couple weeks before the anniversary of the battle and Victoire’s birth. Harry had laughed that Teddy seemed much more interested in the wrapping paper than any of the dozens of gifts he’d received.

He was just about fourteen months old now (Harry had also been baffled to learn that babies’ ages are calculated in months until they’re nearly two years old) and Harry was sitting on the couch at the Burrow, holding Teddy’s tiny hands above his head as the boy bounced his knees up and down and gurgled and babbled at Ginny, who was gathering some of his more scattered toys back into the box.

Suddenly Teddy pulled one of his hands from Harry’s and reached for the stuffed wolf toy Ginny had just summoned from under a chair. Ginny, not having seen his gesture, placed the toy in the box with the others while Harry watched his godson carefully.

Andromeda had told him that Teddy had been trying to walk the last couple days. He’d been pulling up and standing on his own for a while, but hadn’t yet managed to take those first steps, though Andromeda expected it would happen any day now. As Harry watched, Teddy scooted his little foot forward, towards the box of toys where his wolf had just disappeared. He pulled one of his little hands from Harry’s and stretched it out towards the toy box. He now only held onto Harry with one hand, but, because of his bouncing, he was already far enough away from the couch that Harry wouldn’t be able to reach much longer. His eyes widened as Teddy took another tentative step.

“Gin,” he muttered quietly. “Ginny,” he called again.

Ginny looked up from putting yet another toy in the box to see Harry gazing down at Teddy in awe, and Teddy looking at his wolf toy in the box with determination. Guessing which toy he wanted, as it had been his favorite from the moment he’d received it, Ginny picked the wolf up from the box and waved it in front of her face.

“Is this what you want, love? Come on then. Come and get it,” she cooed.

They’d tried this before with little success, but the two teens watched in astonishment as Teddy uncurled his tiny fingers from around Harry’s larger one. He bobbled for a bit, but straightened out and carefully moved his foot forward. He followed it with his other foot.

He took one step. Two. He was about to take a third when he reached a bit too far in an effort to get the wolf and wobbled dramatically before he plopped heavily onto his bottom. Ginny scooped him up with a gleeful laugh and gave him his wolf toy while peppering his face with kisses.

Ginny’s laughter drew her family from the kitchen and they smiled to see the little family of sorts laughing so merrily.

“See if he’ll do it again,” Harry said, and Ginny set the boy back on his feet and handed the wolf toy to Harry, who had seated himself on the floor only a couple steps away. He waved the toy in front of his godson, then pulled it just out of his reach.

Harry and Ginny watched as Teddy took three shuddering steps before falling into Harry’s open arms and eliciting another round of gleeful laughter.

Harry and Ginny hadn’t even noticed the Weasleys emerge from the kitchen, so when he heard Molly’s cries of joy he turned in surprise. The Weasley matriarch stood with a wide smile on her face, and when Teddy saw her, he reached his hands up in a gesture that Harry had quickly learned meant, “pick me up now or I will scream like a banshee.”

Molly willingly obliged the little child’s request and laughed as his hair turned from black, his prefered shade in Harry’s presence, to Weasley red. Teddy waved his wolf toy in her face and she laughed.

“Yes, I saw you get that, didn’t I little man? You’re growing so fast!”

Teddy smiled at her with the crooked smile that Harry would insist came from Tonks, but everyone else knew looked just like Harry’s. Harry waved his wand at the remaining toys and they flew into the box as he stood from the floor. Though Teddy loved Molly, there was no one he loved more than Harry, and as soon as he was standing, Teddy’s arms stretched out to him.

Harry took him with a smile and rested the boy on his hip in a way that had become almost second nature to him.

He knew he wasn’t Teddy’s father. He would never want to replace Remus in Teddy’s heart. Still, Harry couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and love for the little boy in his arms. Teddy’s hair turned black again, but his eyes he couldn’t change as easily. They were a warm shade of brown, as they usually were, and, as always he was reminded of Ginny’s eyes.

Ginny slipped her hand around his waist and tickled Teddy and suddenly Harry had a sense of what his future might look like. A black haired, brown eyed boy. The laughter of family. Pride and love in unmeasurable quantities.

His heart had never felt so full.

Ginny must have felt his emotions, as he certainly wasn’t shielding them at all, and she reached up and placed a tender kiss on his cheek. His wife was beside him. The boy he loved as a son in his arms. The family he’d come to love as his own stood surrounding him, and the girl he’d loved as a sister would be home from Hogwarts in only one short week. He had a job he loved, a house he could happily call his own, and more gold than he could ever imagine spending.

But more than that, he had love--an abundance of love he never even thought possible. Growing up, he knew that he wasn’t loved, and even throughout his time at Hogwarts and with the Weasleys he wasn’t sure exactly what love was, and he was too busy trying not to get killed to figure it out. Then, through some stroke of impossible luck, he became bonded to a woman that he now knew he could never live without. He had learned what love meant and what it felt like, and he had embraced it completely.

Dumbledore was right, once again. Love was a power that Voldemort would never have been able to know.

And love was the power that Harry knew would always be stronger than darkness.


	29. Epilogue

Harry and Ginny were married on August 28, 1999 in a not-so-small ceremony in the back garden of their Welsh home. It was everything that Ginny wanted and that Harry had never even known he could have.

Their life settled into a routine, as lives are wont to do, but Harry and Ginny found that a little routine was fine with them. Harry continued to catch dark wizards. Ginny continued to fly for the Harpies. They both continued to spend as much time with Teddy as they could.

Life marched on.

Ginny became a starting chaser for the Harpies during the 2001-2002 season, and Harry was promoted to lead a small unit of Aurors the year after that. George and Angelina began dating. Percy and Audrey got married. Ron and Hermione were engaged. Babies were born.

Life marched on.

It was on one particularly cold October day in 2003 when Harry and Ginny’s lives changed irrevocably.

Ginny failed her monthly physical assessment for the Harpies. She was pregnant.

Harry, recently promoted, worked tirelessly to be not only the best Auror he could be, but to first and foremost provide support and care for his wife and unborn child, as well as to Teddy, who was understandably nervous about a new child in Harry’s life.

Then, in the first week of the hottest July Harry could ever remember, Andromeda Tonks passed quietly in the night to join her husband and daughter. Teddy had been staying with the Potters fairly frequently, as Andromeda had shown some signs of deteriorating health, so, thankfully, he wasn’t at her home that night. She was young, by wizarding standards, but her life had been hard and full of grief. Teddy’s guest bedroom at the Potters’ cottage in Wales became his permanent residence, and a week later, Harry and Ginny welcomed their first child, James Sirius Potter into the world.

Suddenly they were parents to both a grieving six year-old and a screaming newborn.

Harry and Ginny looked back at the past five years of relative peace and shrugged. Harry’s life had been too predictable for far too long. They should have expected some upheaval.

It was not an ideal situation, but Harry and Ginny loved Teddy as their own, and had done for several years already. Though his moods were often volatile, having just suffered the loss of the woman who had raised him for the first six years of his life, he adjusted well and quickly. Teddy was nothing if not resilient. Harry and Ginny were always careful to never favor James above Teddy, or vise versa, and so they settled into another routine.

Ginny played one more season as a starting Chaser, taking her team all the way to league victory and earning the chance to fly in the Quidditich World Cup for England’s national team, where she pulled out a last-second shot just before their seeker caught the snitch, giving them the victory by 10 points and earning her the Player of the Year award.

The celebration that followed was memorable, to say the least.

Albus Severus Potter was born in April 2006, and it escaped no one’s notice that his birthday was almost exactly nine months after Ginny’s World Cup victory.

With a two-year-old, infant, and eight-year-old at home, and several awards and trophies under her belt, Ginny decided to hang up her broom for good, but she couldn’t shake her love of Quidditch. She would read the sports section of the papers and listen to the games and commentary on the wireless while she was doing housework or playing with her boys, and she’d find herself scowling at the inaccuracy of some of the comments. After a particularly poorly reported game, she wrote a letter to the Prophet about the shortcomings of their sports announcers and the shoddy post-game reports that were printed in their paper.

They published her letter in the next day’s edition, and offered her a job.

By the time their third child and only girl, Lily Luna Potter, was born in the cold February of 2008, Ginny had a regular column in the sports section, and Harry was the Deputy Head Auror. He had just been informed that he would be replacing Robards as Head of the Auror Department upon the older man’s forthcoming retirement in August. Almost exactly ten years after his maverick performance on the first day of training, Harry Potter stood in his new office doorway surveying the eager faces he would now lead, his Head Auror badge gleaming on his chest, unknowingly fulfilling the vision Gawain Robards had seen a decade before. The grizzled ex-Auror smiled as he walked out of the Auror office for the last time, proud of the man Harry Potter had become.

On September 1, 2009, Harry escorted the boy he had long considered his oldest son to board the train for his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As Albus pulled on Harry’s robes and Ginny kept a firm grip of James’s hand, while balancing a squirming Lily on her opposite hip, Harry leaned in to give Teddy Lupin a goodbye hug.

“Bye, Dad,” Teddy whispered.

When Teddy had begun consistently calling Harry “Dad” shortly after moving in with the Potters permanently, Harry went into his bedroom and wept over the loss of Remus for at least an hour. Then, he had dried his eyes and asked Teddy, who, at seven, was old enough to decide these things, if he was sure he wanted to call Harry his dad.

With a maturity far beyond his years, Teddy had looked Harry in the eye and said, “I think my real dad would be happy that I have you as a replacement dad, don’t you?”

And from then on, it was settled. Harry and Ginny were Dad and Mum to Teddy, just like they were to James, and later Albus and Lily, too.

“Bye, son,” Harry said, pulling away and ruffling Teddy’s hair.

“And you’re sure there’s no trolls or giants at the sorting?” Teddy asked for probably the hundredth time, his hair fading to a mousy brown with worry. Like his mother, he struggled to control the transformations when his emotions were strong.

Harry sighed, vowing to repay this “favor” to his best mate as soon as he got the chance. “No. You know your Uncle Ron likes to take the mickey. I promise. Just a hat on your head that’ll look into the deepest parts of you and find what makes you tick. Then, it’ll put you in the house that best suits you.”

“That doesn’t sound that much better.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s not so bad.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, Ted?”

“You’ll still love me, no matter what house I’m in, right?”

“I’ll always love you, Teddy. Hogwarts houses are an awfully silly thing to decide love over. Good and bad people can come from any house. It’s not the colors on your robes that define you, it’s who you are in your heart, and I love your heart, son.”

Teddy smiled and his hair flashed a garish shade of lime green. Harry fingered the neon tresses.

“This our new favorite?” he asked of Teddy’s hair color.

Teddy pulled some down in front of his eyes. “Yup!”

“You know this one drives your mother mad. Clashes with practically everything, or so she tells me.”

Teddy’s grin grew wider and mischievous, and suddenly Harry was reminded that Teddy was the son of one of the Marauders, raised by another Marauder’s son, who also happened to be the student who had broken perhaps the most rules in Hogwarts history. He shook his head. Teddy likely made his hair the most infuriating colors possible simply because he knew it made his mother frustrated. It was no secret that Ginny struggled to buy clothes for a child whose hair was a different color every month, but she always complained good-naturedly, so Harry knew that Teddy understood that Ginny didn’t really mind all that much after all.

The warning whistle sounded across the platform and Ginny called her son’s name.

“Come on, Ted. Time to load up,” Ginny said. She looked at the energetic young child struggling to free himself from her grip and gave his arm a little shake. “Say goodbye to Teddy, Jamie.”

Teddy bent down to receive James’ hug and sloppy five-year-old kiss, before he straightened to kiss little Lily’s cheek. He gave Ginny a huge hug and promised to write after the sorting. A tug on his robe from Albus had him bending down again to give the three-year-old a hug, and a promise to see him at Christmas.

He was then embraced once more in his surrogate father’s strong arms.

“Go on, then,” Harry said. “Have fun. Try not to get detention your first week. Tell Uncle Neville we say ‘hello.’ And for the love of Merlin, don’t forget to write your mother some letters. Don’t leave me alone with her nagging!” Harry teased with a wink.

Teddy laughed and promised to do his best at all of those things, before he bounded onto the train, dragging the luggage, which Harry had kindly charmed to be feather-light, behind him.

Ginny leaned into his shoulder, and as he had every day for the last ten years, he felt her love flow through their bond. She looked at him with overwet eyes and a secret smile on her face as they watched the scarlet steam engine pull away to take their oldest boy to begin his Hogwarts adventures.

“Do you remember the last time we stood on this platform?” Ginny asked him.

“We were here with Ron and Neville meeting Hermione and Luna after their last year. Now Hermione’s moving into position to be the next Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ron’s left the Aurors to work with George, Neville’s teaching, of all things, and Luna is off looking for odd creatures, or whatever it is that she does. Time flies.”

“Mmm,” Ginny murmured in agreement. “Teddy had just learned to walk, if I remember correctly. Now he’s the one on the train.”

They mused in silence for a moment.

“You do realize, love,” Ginny continued, “that we’re going to be standing here on the platform on September 1 every year for the next…” she paused to count, “sixteen years.”

Harry blanched. “No. That can’t be right.”

“James will be eleven before Teddy graduates, then there will be at least one Potter in Hogwarts until Lily finishes. She’s one now, that gives us sixteen more years. And that’s presuming we stick with our decision to stop with Lily and don’t have any accidental Potters.”

Harry was shaking his head ruefully.

“Oh! And here’s another thought for you,” Ginny continued. “Teddy will be of age in 2015, but Lily won’t take her last September 1 ride until 2025, at which point Teddy will be 27. How many years of break do you think we’ll have before we’re wishing luck to Teddy and his kids?”

“Ah! No, Ginny! He’s eleven! He can’t have kids!” Harry protested.

“But he won’t be eleven forever!”

“Yes he will,” Harry stubbornly denied. “I refuse to allow him to get any older.”

“Oh now you’re just being silly,” Ginny said as she and Harry towed their children towards the barrier to King’s Cross, James’ squirming hands now clasped in both his mother’s and his father’s firm grip as he swung between them.

“Ugh, Gin, I feel so ruddy old now. I’m not even thirty! See what you’ve done to me! This is all your fault, of course. Tell your mother, James. I’m not old enough for this!” Harry ribbed good-naturedly.

“Your fault, Mum! Daddy’s not old!” James repeated obediently with a gravitas belied by the fact he was still swinging from their arms.

Ginny’s ringing laughter could be heard by all, even as the small family passed through to the muggle side of the station and headed back to their home to prepare for another day. The witches and wizards still behind them on the platform gazed at the place where the Potters had just vanished with smiles on their faces. It was such a rare treat to see their austere Head Auror and his celebrity family in such an unguarded moment. The love and joy they shared lightened the hearts of everyone present.

Brighter days had finally found Harry and Ginny, and, really, neither of them could have asked for anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story originally took me six years to write. I started it in 2010 when I had a two hour break in the middle of the day in college. It was too short a break to go home and back (I lived off campus), but too long to surf facebook, so I started to write. Before I finished it I had gotten married, graduated, moved across the country (twice), started my first REAL job...and my second, and learned SO MUCH about writing and life in general. I think I put the story on hiatus twice, once for over a year. That's why the second half of the story is much better than the first (in my opinion). I had so much more actual experience to draw on. I couldn't even bring myself to reread Fleur's delivery scenes as I was posting this story, so those chapters didn't get any additional editing. Now that I've actually birthed a child, I was nervous about how bad it would be and really didn't want to feel obligated to rewrite it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little Harry/Ginny fic. It was my first multi-chapter fic and my first foray into real writing. It's messy. It has a fairly nonexistent plot. And the first half has some SERIOUS pacing and dialogue issues. But I like it, and I wanted to share it with you. Maybe one day I will redo it properly. Or not. Currently, my creative power is channeled entirely into my Severitus fic, "Just Like His Father" (and its inevitable sequel, shh!). I encourage you to head to my page and check it out. I think it is far better than this one, and we're only eight chapters in! 
> 
> So, again, hope you liked it. If not, that's okay. Not every story is for every person. I also hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there in the age of Covid-19. Goodbye!


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